Into a soul absolutely free from thoughts and emotions
even the tiger finds no room to insert its fierce claws.

One and the same breeze passes over the pins and valleys
yet why do they give off different notes.

No thinking no reflecting perfect emptiness yet therein something moves
following its own course, the eye sees it but not hand may touch it

“The moon in the stream”

Victory is for the one even before combat
who has no thought of self abiding in the no mindless of the great origin.