Under the Temple - Mark Nepo

 The temple hanging over the water is

anchored on pillars that nameless workers

placed in the mud long ago. So never forget

that the mud and the hands of those workers

are part of the temple, too. What frames the

sacred is just as sacred. The dirt that packs

the plant is the beginning of beauty. And

those who haul the piano on stage are the

beginning of music. And those who are

stuck, though they dream of soaring,

are the ancestors of our wings.