![]() One's Nature*A Poem by Bob BNext to a gentle, gurgling brook, A monk was sitting when by and by Something in the crystal clear Water happened to catch his eye.
A scorpion was clutching a blade of grass. To rescue the creature, the monk reached down To lift the scorpion out of the water. Otherwise, the creature would drown.
As his hand drew close, the scorpion Stung him on his little finger. Withdrawing his hand, he said to himself, "The little creature will die if I linger."
He reached down one more time And grabbed the little scorpion, when The tiny animal, feeling threatened, Stung him on the finger again.
He placed the scorpion upon the ground. Grasping his hand, he tried to restrain The urge to cry out and wondered what He could do to relieve the pain.
A curious stranger standing nearby Asked the monk, "Didn't you know That animal would sting your hand? You saved the creature even so."
"Yes, I did," replied the monk. "Although there's pain, it's not so grave. A scorpion's nature is to sting; But MY nature is to save."
-by Bob B (10-17-19)
*A Zen anecdote (source unknown) retold here in verse © 2019 Bob B |
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