More than coincidence

Who made the moon?
Who put it there?
Could the dust which formed it really care
Which way it turned
Or why or where
Enough to choose to gather there
And form a light
To cool reflect the sun's hot glare,
All round and white,
Which glowing light
Doth shine and guide our way by night?
 
And what of the sun, who made this one?
Did a ball of fuel so huge and round
Somehow gather and compound,
Separate from other worlds and life
And then, determine to ignite?

And so, at certain times of year
The sun and moon seem to appear
As One,
The Sun
Slides perfectly behind the moon
- Though certainly we know the sun
to be the vastly larger one,
Their paths are crossed in such a way
That on a certain day we see them
As though they were the same size,
And existing in the same sphere.
 - As if they were designed to intersect
Perfectly for our sight.

And of this world we dwell on,
Earth - 
Full of life
And beauty
Air and water,
Land and sea.
Did all this simply happen?
Could it be?

The water here,
The burning there,
Each of the planets
Turning,
Moving,
Burning,
Shining,
Gliding
In their place --
Is this the way of chaos,
Or of lost, ungoverned space?

Does organization prove creation?
Does purpose prove design?
Does separation show assignment,
or the planning of a mind?

Life comes from life,
This is the only way I've ever seen;
Could objects, then, inanimate
Ever bring a creature into being?

Somehow I cannot bring myself
To logically believe
That perfect systems spring from chaos,
Nor order from entropy.

Then, according to my sense,
And considering the evidence,
Life, and all that's in it
Has to be
More than coincidence.