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.