So here's the hitch:
how is it I, a worm, could hope to meet
the Face, the Source of all that hopes and leans
toward hope? How could a worm imagine past
reality? Half of creation is
imagination. And if half-created,
why not all--already--being? For
the universe is here by miracle:
Its cause was nothing more nor less than naught.
Before Plank time is preternatural--
so by the brightest minds we have been taught.
What more miraculous than Personhood?
What more unnatural than nature's Is?
Why are there some things rather than no things?
Incomprehensible! I feel a shock!
Envisage more than Anselm's point, look here:
If we can think it, perhaps it is already,
or else we work in part to make it be.