This poem says that Western conceptions of the way are mistaken. The way is not spatial or temporal, for it inheres in things, in all things - even in the piss and the shit.

 

The Way

 

Everywhere, necessarily, always,

We are on the way:

We are on the way, of course,

On superhighways;

We are on the way, perforce,

Moving sideways;

Even moving backward, with remorse,

We are on the way;

But all this wayfaring, by the way,

Is illusion,

For Dao is in the piss and the shit.


Submitted: January 26, 2013

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