Chapter 4 gives the Tao its first description — and the description is emptiness. The Tao is empty, yet use will never exhaust it; fathomless, it seems the ancestor of all things. This is not the emptiness of absence but of capacity: like a vessel that can pour forever precisely because nothing clogs it. Later chapters will build the wheel-hub and bellows images on this foundation.
Four verbs then describe how this emptiness meets the world: it blunts sharp edges, unties tangles, softens glare, and becomes one with the dust. Each is a small portrait of gentleness — the Tao does not defeat hardness, brightness, and complication; it quietly relaxes them, and it does not hold itself above the ordinary but settles into it. The chapter ends in deliberate unknowing: deep and clear, the Tao seems barely to exist; I do not know whose child it is — it appears to precede even the highest god. The source has no source that can be named.
Key verses
The Tao is empty, yet in use it is never exhausted. Fathomless — like the ancestor of all things. It blunts sharp edges, unties tangles, softens the glare, becomes one with the dust. Deep and clear — it seems to barely exist. I do not know whose child it is; it appears to have preceded the heavenly emperor.
Read Chapter 4 in full
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ॲपमध्ये मोफत वाचापरंपरांना विचारा
एक प्रश्न। पाच परंपरांची उत्तरे।
खात्याशिवाय दर 24 तासांत 2 प्रश्न।