What is it underlies, or lies behind,
This universe of hard phenomena
By which this cosmic vastness is designed—
The Mother of it all, or its Papa?
For sure, no mere stochastic toss
Of dice gave rise to such complexity;
There must be some almighty mind to boss
This enterprise, if we could only see.
Just as this poem has its source of being
Within mysterious regions of my mind,
Imagined first before it’s here for seeing,
Likewise the universe must be designed
By some incipient intelligence
That manifests itself in worlds of sense.