No man can live without faith!
Faith makes real what can never be;
and faith makes stable harsh life's distemper.
In nature He has built His firmament,
which He permits His creatures partly to know.
He gives us numbers with which to follow chance.
But numbers are a notion, an abstraction,
an illusion He assigns equally to good and evil.
Numbers and chance, not knowing good or evil,
are innocent. He embedded them in nature,
which is careless toward you or who you are.
Numbers sum the live and they sum the dead.
They give us rules governing the starry spheres.
They rule the dooryard, waiting for the old Chevy
to rumble. They explain to us the natural order.
And sometimes, oh happy thought, numbers
work for us. But while lightening our burden,
they raise in the atmosphere an angst
and disturbance that threatens existence.
Nature pursues the towering sky to darkness
and compasses the wind's deluge in hincty night.
Nature makes sleep and bright morning to awake.
But how can it be nature's business
to know whether we are well or ill, what hurt
has dropped on our heads, or even care?
Nature is blind to the mountain you have climbed,
what committee you rule, what invention you claim,
what discovery, or what rags drape your back.
Nature provides for the morning daffodils
and murky nights in which children are wrecked
speeding. But how wonderful is nature's garden!
We eat nature's vegetables and we thrive!
Where is the lack of bodies to mark the rhythm?
We march across the real from bump to bump,
daring the path in the murk bump to bump,
before we bump into the hole in the ground,
which is our destination sooner or later,
unknown when, unknown why, unknown how.
Now comes our story to an end, whether surprising
or not. Do not demand a reason or proof.
What happens goes without reason or proof.
We muddle along, and after we are gone, so it goes
unto faith. When the starry real in the infinitude
holds up, though we perceive it not, that is God's work.
When the story comes to an end, that is God's work.
If the numbers add up or do not, that is God's work.
You have plenty to do other way, man, than doubt.
Forget your dreams of the darkness and starry spaces,
forget the dark souls, messengers between heaven and hell,
forget even what the old folks have warned you!
Don't worry whether correctly or not has passed
a life, or whether by some happening you wrecked
or blew it. Don't worry that you forgot the rent.
If you'd know any one thing,
whether that be enough to cure the restless soul,
know what your dooryards know. Not man but God
will instruct you if you need to know more.