How easy to forget how grand we are,
Composed of atoms from some shattered star,
A star materialized from energy
That out of empty nowhere came to be.
How marvelous that seeming happenstance,
The progeny of merely random chance,
Should create that which now might comprehend
The cosmic cause from which all would descend.
What then’s the proper attitude to take
Toward what remains mysteriously opaque?
For though we know what scientists can find,
There yet remains the mystery of mind,
That cryptic Source of everything designed.