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There are ways but the Way is uncharted;
There are names but no nature in words:
Nameless indeed is the source of creation
But things have a mother and she has a name.

The secret waits for the insight
Of eyes unclouded by longing;
Those who are bound by desire
See only the outward container.

These two come paired but distinct
By their name.
Of all things profound,
Say that their planning is deepest,
The gate to the root of the world.