THE MYSTERY II
The Mystery, of course, is how all this,
The Universe of which we’re cognizant,
Has come to be, if it’s a blind abyss
Of randomness or something elegant:
An artifact exhibiting intent,
The function of a universal mind
Unknowable, perhaps, yet evident,
By which the whole shebang has been designed.
Though I can’t solve this ancient mystery,
I’m still unwilling simply to concede
To declarations of Authority
And blandly iterate some ancient creed.
Yet that I have a mind and clearly know it
Must be the way the Cosmos has to show it.