Implicit in the cosmos there is Mind,
The Source by which all beings are designed,
The most complex of which, it seems, is we,
And yet its essence is a mystery.
Good Orderly Direction, nicknamed GOD,
Has elevated us from a mere clod
Into a creature with an intellect
Who can on all creation now reflect
And may commune directly with our Source
Learning how to guide our species’ course—
Which it is now imperative we do
Since now so many ends that we pursue
Will ruin this unique experiment
And prove itself not heaven- but hell-bent.