Occam's Razor Poem by Patti Masterman

The universe is our patent Father
Mother, brother, sister, lover-
Not the Moon, hanging on high;
Not the far off sun in sky.

It's not a senate filibuster,
Or a vote, or a comet's luster.
It's not an ego on a throne,
Or a clean soul out on loan.

You don't need a library card
To access your genetic ward;
Creation central birthed out you-
There's nothing that you have to do.

Don't wear your knees out, kneeling down;
No one holds for you a crown.
And karma's just a laughing jester,
Who loves to goad you, and to pester.

This planet earth is not the center
Of a strange world's compass rose,
We're just here by chance or fancy-
Where our pleasant home arose.

And all the fake man-made religions,
And rumors of some personal god-
Sprang up because we were unhappy
Down here on our plot of sod.

We thought it should have been more perfect;
We shouldn't have to work so hard-
So in our minds, we birthed another
World- to go to- when we tired.