When I think how each small life Feels itself the center of the universe, How sunshine, rain, or food is good or bad, Depending on need, How conditions carry different meanings, For each thing that lives, I fill with wonder and despair At how the world ends A thousand times a minute. If I crush an insect, The sun is blotted out, The stars fall, The earth is shattered, For ever and ever. The universe ceases to be For that living thing. But of course it was only an insect.