A quivering group of atoms make up our world, I'm told,
Whether they be oxygen or carbon, iron or gold,

Nothing to distinguish a single one or mass,
Each is quite identical to those within its class,

Arrange them in a pattern, interlocked or in a chain,
Or somehow form a cell, a crystal, or a working brain,

The sum of all the formulas that mathematicians weave
Includes a hidden miracle too subtle to believe,

And so they tell us naught exists but bits of matter, find
No evidence of something more to build the human mind,

It's only dust and energy and space and endless time,
A fortunate congruity of atoms, genes and slime,

Natural selection is the way we came to be,
It all just happened, we are told, without a plan, you see...

I would ask the thinkers who say there is no God
How can anything exist? Or how could it be fraud?

Not if there be answers to the questions we ask of them,
But could we seek solutions unless Someone made the problem?

                                                         by D. Edgar Murray