If not Divine, then
what are we?
Progress and process
from some hapless form;
some simple thing,
some lesser beast,
some soulless creature
fully least
that yet still walks
in wood or jungle,
flies in sky,
crawls from hole
or swims in sea?

What that lives
considers itself,
except the human,
to ask, “What made me?”
What living that walks
or flies or crawls or swims
begs answers to questions this sublime?
What are we, then —
if not Divine?