What the gecko told me yesterday
The cricket confirmed
The dove, though in agreement
Spoke over the span of a dozen wing beats
A small bat struggling in the water of my pool
Reminded me of how valuable is all life
No matter how small
Each contains the whole universe

I accept that in rescuing ants from my tub
Before I shower
And that cockroach I captured and released outside yesterday
Or the fly, whom my rapid motion snatched from the air
Then tossed out my front door
I have acquired a sickness
It is a symptom of having failed
To ignore the small picture

 The picture of the ant
The dog, the bird, the gecko, the spider, the slippery path of the smiling fish
Is a picture painted by an artist of a million years
Whose meticulous brushstrokes carry centuries behind them
The separation of land masses and the boiling turbulence of the inner volcano
A millennia passed as this artist studied
The opening of a single rose from the dust of an exploding star