I am but a servant in this temple.
Like this ant, crawling up my arm.
The ant, is my servant yet – we
share the same body.
I think of the Buddhist monk –
and his straw broom.
Clearing the path for a Lama.
The broom may hurt the small
creature but …
Who is to say?
The ant has no intention
to leave a bite on my arm
and I have no want to
shoo it away!
