To be certain, my singularity,
Is the proof that I am the deity:
There's no one else around because I looked,
The thing is done, the die is cast, it's booked.
I am the center all things rest upon
And more-- Oh dear! I do go on and on.
Science never will find the source of mind:
Because it can't recognize its own kind
The basic problem of the demiurge:
That unsatisfiable and vain urge
To behold my power externally
Awestruck by my godlike virility.