Nature knows

A hard edged

end of plane

the slots pieces fall into

regimented by the theory

bound to the maths

A sorcerers hat threaded logic

There isn't any room for magic 

not in this tiny little room

marked science

I lean against a tree

deep in the woods

where my mind wanders

I see the little shapes

that nature makes

pine cone spirals

flower lined landscapes

viral threads crawling through leaf

fossilized vertibrae etched in stone

But "you can't fly a rocket into space based on faith"

I still wonder how nature makes these little shapes

It holds true its own from the energy it takes

and it makes

me believe in you.