太子瑞應本起經 2.15

2.15

"The Buddha told the dragon king: ‘You should take refuge in the Buddha, take refuge in the Dharma, and take refuge in the saṅgha of monks.’ He thereupon received the three refuges. Among all animals, this dragon was the first to see the Buddha. By means of his spiritual powers, the Buddha moved to sit in a stone chamber. Reflecting on his original vow, he wished to liberate sentient beings, and contemplated: ‘Birth and death originally arise from the principle of the twelve links of dependent origination: because the conditions arise, there is birth and death; if the conditions cease, birth and death are exhausted. Doing this brings this result; not doing this, this ceases. For all sentient beings, the mind is the spirit, obscure and dark, imperceptible and formless; it conceives consciousness and ideation on its own, receiving a body in accordance with its actions. The body has no constant master; the spirit has no constant form. The spirit and mind transform, turbulent and turbid, difficult to clarify; spontaneously arising and spontaneously perishing, never resting for an instant. One thought departs, one thought arrives; like bubbles in water, as one drop perishes, another arises again. Reaching up through the three realms—desire, form, and formless—the stations where the nine spirits dwell are all bound to consciousness, unable to escape suffering. Benighted and imperceptive, they do not realize it themselves, hence it is called ignorance, and none know the essential path. Now, the Way is supremely subtle, vacant, tranquil, and free of thought; it cannot be known with the mind of the mundane world. There are ninety-six kinds of worldly arts and doctrines, each believing in what it serves—who knows their delusions? They all delight in life and seek security, crave desires and relish flavors, and are fond of sounds and forms; hence they cannot take delight in the Buddha's Way. The Buddha's Way is pure, empty, and devoid of anything. When one ordinarily reckons the body and the myriad things, they cannot be permanently held. If I were to explain it to them, showing that all under heaven is suffering, empty, and devoid of anything, who could believe it? It would only weary and exhaust me.’ Wishing to remain silent and not expound the Dharma for the world, he thereupon entered samādhi.