What fastidious detail in each of these spring flowers!
How can there not be a Who behind their being?
Such beauty! And eyes to behold it, and minds
to wonder, and hearts to understand.
All this, every bit exquisite, each detail,
from a tender grape hyacinth out beyond
the farthest star. And to think that all of it
is but one flash-like fleck eternally riding on
radiating waves amidst a brilliance of flashes,
world upon world upon world. Why, you can’t
even see its beginning, or its end! So I ask,
how can there not be a Who?
When all this wonder dances in endless joy
through every molecule of being and through
all the spaces beyond, and between, and within,
how can there not be a Who?