MAKING SENSE

        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.

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