The man who of malign intent
Doth injure any living thing,
Makes himself heir to myriad ills
That he himself doth bring.
For there is such a subtle bond
Of unity ’twixt thing and thing
That when a blow to one he gives
They all do feel the sting.
Their common cry, though mute it be,
Swelleth unto a whirlwind great
That bears unto the injurer back
The ills he did create.
If man would pause, and only think
"I of one whole am truly part,"
He then would stay the cruel blow
That pierceth his own heart.