Oh, pity, pity him For whom the universe speaks Yet only of futility; Who only sees the second law of thermodynamics Inexorable – All suns dying of a slow, slow death, Then nothingness; Who sees the nebula only as a splintered sphere The big bang before its final whimpering!
Oh pity him who cries, “The world is dew, And yet… And yet…”
If all that rules the universe Is chance, mere chance, Why sing a lullaby for a new born babe? Why rage against the dying of the sun?
Oh weep, weep for him For whom the firmaments proclaim No god at all, Not even man!
“The heavens proclaim the glory of God…”
I wrote this as a young Christian at the same time I wrote my poem "Quiet Time" in which I lament the futility of a life without God.