God Can Win Poem by James McLain

When ever, light is formed.
Where ever, art is from.
Such of his,
is you are thinking this.
Beautiful each compilation,
unique our spontaneousness.

Deep it is long and wide.
We are filling the gap,
and science each it's margin is.
We who are rubbed out to exist.
Minute these forms of atomic matter.
Why is there no inert, outer space?
I look to you, whom ask of it, am I within?
Given over to the order of gravity,
is something that has reason over there?

Fly is to contact paper,
outer space I am, coming and going.
It is not necessary to execute 'God,
to put the best of the rest to the test.