Truth Poem by Joshua Swanson

I think therefore I am,
I know myself to be;
I sense that there is more,
But what I cannot see.

How can I know my sense is true,
Can I be sure it does not lie?
By what can I compare it to,
What scale can I measure it by?

A man cannot know
What he hasn't seen;
A worm cannot picture
A flower.

Thus all that I've seen
Must somewhere have been
Or how could I know to
describe it?

The brisk winds of autumn,
The snow on the ground;
All I can imagine,
Must somewhere be found.

But if this all exists,
As I believe that it must,
Then where did it come from?
And what can I trust?

As my senses can lie,
And my thoughts be mislead,
So unanswerable questions
Run through my head.

As I sit here and wonder,
An ponder and wait,
A thought comes before me:
Chaos cannot create!

With limited mass,
Which I know there to be,
I see the universe is finite;
Limited, like me!

And as a finite mind
cannot craft a new thought;
So a finite universe,
Cannot have wrought,

Anything so fine,
As all I see before me;
Or anything at all,
A fact that still does awe me.

So if it came not from chaos,
Then whence did all come?
What can I say,
To balance this sum?