SPIRIT MATTERS

   
    The universe, I’m learning, is informed
    By energy, intelligent and wise,
    Its frigid, vast and ghastly reaches warmed
    By something I’ve been slow to recognize.

    Though some poetically personify
    This source of order as a loving God
    They worship like an ancient king on high,
    Beneath whom each is but a lowly clod,

    I rather find that this intelligence
    Implicitly invests the universe
    With orderly direction we can sense
    Or else ignore—in which case things go worse.

         It’s like this poem, whose pattern underlies
         What seems spontaneous—form in disguise.

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