One Sword to Sever the Stars

The roc spreads its wings through the highest heavens, with the wind for company; the fish leaps across the four seas, with the waves for its path. Without trials, how can one tell the phoenix from the sparrow?

The sword points to the firmament, with stars as its target; the brush paints mountains and rivers, with clouds for ink. Without trying, how can one know the brave from the cowardly?

A horse tramples a thousand mountains, dust rising like mist; a boat sails ten thousand waters, waves rising like peaks. Without venturing forth, how can one tell a fine steed from a nag?

The eagle strikes across the open sky, the whale rules the sea. Without trying, how can one know the dragon from the earthworm?