Kant found nought that sorts an “ought” out

From an “is”

Thus hallowed and un-narrowed established gaps between

The cup and lip

So that which we would pray for

Subsists in its own proper, separated, place

Confined fine from the world and

Those who take its state “as is”

And this discrete division of our best desires

From fact

Gives to them special Providence; prophetic gift

For though there’s whole divergence and

Complete apart

The very act of prayer becomes the more

Replete of heart

Thy Kingdom, Lord, is not one of this world

Again the pain of science, with its exponential boasts,

Which think to sink divinity, and set afloat its boats

To embezzle hearts by sideways arts which would impute,

State certain

Sublunary things on which The Lord has drawn

His inner mystery curtain

And by a self-same stealth our God has chastely

Covered over

The wonders of His works; Creation’s artistry

As like an “ought” from “is” can never be determined

Like so, causality - Lord Science’s mink ermine

Stole thrown and folded over all his rival speculation -

By logic inadmissible, is a consequence of faith

Causality, that best cement’s uncoupled, weakly tape

Is cut through with a knife

The throne of God’s ironic sense of humour

Perhaps it bubbles, shakes, with cosmic laughter?

Like Jack and Jill, our regal proofs come

Tumbling after

Our crowns being broke, our celebrated thoughts

Are poor as rumour?

Handsome the foolishness of God, Who wisens men

Hamstrung the wisdom of we dolts; imprisoning.