The Small Things
So much can fit between two hues:
The Academy of America and of Ithaca,
The star that gives life to beings,
The blood of love, or the blood of hate.
So much can be within a minute:
A universe beyond reach expand,
A soul to heaven may fly forth,
Or to hell plunge with a thud.
So much can be within a point:
The difference between almost
And acheived, between just glory
And unjust shame of sulking.
So much can be within an inch:
The light of stars uncounted in milk,
The vessel that life-blood brings,
The difference between hit and miss.
So much can be in a simple act:
The seed of love or hate eternal,
The single yes that salvation will accept
Or the stab that innocence will kill.
So much can be in a word:
The testament of a life well lived,
The wisdom and fountain of life,
Or the sign that betrays a traitor.
This know the sages: there is no hue,
Nor minute, nor inch, nor act or word
Too small to worlds entire discover and
Create, or destroy and burn to ashes.