Accidents by Mark Spencer

Within a realm of accidents
Nothing would have a point.
No cause can come from randomness,
No purpose to appoint.

No choice you make is of design,
There is no meaning found.
No order would exist at all,
If chaos did abound.

Reality cannot exist,
If nothing came before.
And life cannot create itself,
A fact we can't ignore.

If time and space did not exist,
Nor too did gravity;
And if no matter could be found,
No sign of energy,

Could these things suddenly appear,
If all had been erased?
This is the kind of fairytale
That science has embraced.

Yet, steadfast, they will stand their ground,
And argue 'til they're blue.
The paradigm that they've embraced,
Finds no purpose in you.

An accident is what they are,
The truth is out of joint.
For in a random universe,
Their theories have no point.

It's through intelligent design,
That worth is found in man,
There is no purpose to our lives
Unless there is a plan.

So if you disagree with me,
It is irrelevant.
Who cares about the pointless thoughts
Of random accidents?

Wess (66.158.178.47) -- Tuesday, November 9 2010, 07:46 am

Well said.
You make some excellent points Mark. Very good poem.

Megan (166.205.9.70) -- Sunday, December 19 2010, 01:35 am

I agree completely.
This is so true.

Bipedalguy (Don Crowell) (71.232.227.76) -- Tuesday, December 28 2010, 04:46 am

I'm in your column.
In many cases the other view is between a wall and a hard place, and it seems that science is finally coming around.

Great write.

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