I doubt it’s a god, not even
an intelligent designer, but
there’s something so beyond
our ken at work out there, in here,
that we cannot begin to admit it
to ourselves.

Too many inexplicable surprises…
Where is the grand metaphor
for us to munch on in the abyss
of our nights? Our guesses are
getting colder, not hotter. Can
you feel it? The more we know,
the less.

What’s really behind our blind
spot? Where did mathematics
come from?

What gifts are we shuffling off
to the robots, and what will
they do with them?