The building blocks of everything --
   Too fine to feel or see or smell --
 Dance their way into hardened shapes
   Via forces, invisible.
 And so water flows, flowers bud,
   But - also - dew evaporates.
 This expansive path stretches on --
   It's slow-going through dark lands.
 It can't be spoken of smartly.
 It can't be pondered fruitfully.
 It's Early Spring green in sunlight,
   Or like the snow seen by moonlight. 

NOTE: The late Tang Dynasty poet, Sikong Tu (a.k.a. Ssŭ-k‘ung T‘u,) wrote an ars poetica entitled Twenty-Four Styles of Poetry. It presents twenty-four poems that are each in a different tone, reflecting varied concepts from Taoist philosophy and aesthetics. Above is a translation of the fourteenth of the twenty-four poems. Translated titles vary: Giles calls it “Close Woven” and others have titled it, “Fine.”