Present At The Creation Poem by Jan Sand

What was it
Said, at the beginning,
'Let there be! '
And there was?

I doubt a hairy geriatric
With a forefinger poking
Into chaos.
But I get no satisfaction
Out of Science
Cataloging energies and particles
So that the universe,
From prime power,
Opened like a flower.
It is, of course, nice to be aware
Of forms succeeding forms
So that the progress into currency
Clicks into sense.

But all that's offered
When I press for motivation
Is a shrug.
Nothing in the sky
can answer
'Why? '