World without Maker is deed and no doer,
song without singer, a motherless child.

World without Maker is half an answer
begging reply to the riddle of world.

Mind without Maker is soul scorning soul,
the eye and the arrow lacking the goal,

and soul without Maker is the lightless glow
of a sightless eye and a child born cold.

Life without Maker is strife without play,
the mass without the gravity:

and man without Maker, the centerless center,
reasonless reason, the vital decay.

So for any mouth that dares to claim
that the world is so and Makerless
and man is but a potterless clay,
let it say too if such clay could bless,
nor wonder nor worship nor straight the way,

that floats in abysses, declaims without voice,
sees without seeing and does without choice —

but a querying question, a hardened heart,
a senseless quest of evolution’s dart.

World with Maker is the one reply:
Man with Maker the reason why.