Are there seventeen billion planets
In our sector of the universal space
As astronomers now say.
Does every thing slip into place,
Or Is the rest just an image,
An optical illusion
To pamper to that of
Mans' self delusion.
Did asteroids from eccentric orbit
Crash on a lava surfaced earth
Dispensing icy cores and mantles
Bringing cooling water to this Earth
To set in trend the processes
That led to life and evolution,
An accident of chance rather
Than that of any divine creation.
Are there other galaxies
Stretching endlessly on and on?
Are there universes in parallel
Or is there just this one?
Is man a mental creature
Imprisoned by a confined mind
And this intellect creates
Truths for its prisoner to find.
Is there just a darkness
Man being on its own,
And the universe created mentally
Against that stress of being alone.
The seventeen billion planets
Now dwindle, flicker and are gone
And man is his own creation
And the magic number is just one.
