Be completely empty.
Be perfectly serene.
The ten thousand things arise together;
in their arising is their return.
Now they flower,
and flowering
sink homeward,
returning to the root.
The return to the root
is peace.
Peace: to accept what must be,
to know what endures.
In that knowledge is wisdom.
A quiet settles on the hills
Augmented by the birds,
Everything is softer --
A time for fewer words.
A time best spent listening
To the voices of the land,
How softly winter guides us
With her wondrous hand.