Old intimations I have felt suggest
A universe more intimate than that
My science textbooks taught: a Cosmos blessed
With consciousness, a holy habitat.
Though for so long I’ve bowed to science’ sway,
Denying what I’ve known in my heart,
I’m ready now to follow feeling’s way
Intuiting which is the horse, the cart.
The horse is mind, which draws all matter after,
Implicit with designs that time unfolds;
That matter causes mind—what could be dafter?
Chaotic mass is shaped by mental molds.
Just so it is that words in verse take form,
Selected from the dictionary’s swarm.