The Legend of the Zhen Dan Star Lord

The Great Way is vast and elusive, its two aspects both worth their song; nonaction and action each hold a place in the heart.

Nature runs its course, turning through the seasons; sun rises, moon sets, without need of a zither.

Wildflowers flourish and fade with the seasons; rivers flow east, beyond all restraint.

The sage rules the world with a robe hanging loose; the people thrive, forgetting past and present.

This is nature's wondrous truth: wind bends the grass, while the roots of the Way run deep.

Suddenly, turmoil spreads across the human world; raging floods wreak havoc, mountains and forests lie bare.

Corpses from famine litter the land, roads lie broken, and the people wail to the heavens.

How can one cling to stillness now? How can one stand by and sigh at the raging storm?

The stout-hearted shoulder hoes and clear the nine rivers; the wise burn rhinoceros horn to expose the demons of the night.

They move mountains, fill seas, level hills and valleys, cut through brambles, and open the wilds.

With human effort, they set a troubled world to rights; resolve can overcome fate, its spirit bold.

Nonaction does not mean lazily lying still; does action have to mean ceaseless struggle?

Spring brings new life, autumn gathers in: both follow the Way. Strength and gentleness, joined in balance, make the sacred ground.

A good field awaits tilling and tending; leave it unplowed, and weeds grow thick.

A clear spring must be kept from silting up; dredge its bed, and blue waves surge forth.

The sage clings to no single view, but guides things with the current, smoothly as oil.

Heaven and earth speak not, letting change take its course; the wise human heart helps mend the vault of heaven.

These two teachings have never truly opposed each other; only when joined do they reveal the long road ahead.