You, God
Who created me
and the universe
with a billion degrees
and two hundred
seventy-three,
the speed of light
and relativity,
- and poetry.
Where are we now?
Why our mad rush
to greet you?
Why do we sin
and then expect
a final exculpation?
Do you care?
Fred Babbin
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/question-44/
