What if?

There’s an argument which concludes that the existence of humans on Earth must be a miracle, because the odds against conditions being so precisely right for us are so astronomical. Equally, your own existence among the human race relies on so many chance couplings of your antecedents that it’s quite incredible that you’re here at all! Or perhaps not . . .

Have you ever thought of this, my son and daughter, that it’s queer:
If I’d never met your Mum, then you two wouldn’t now be here!
And you could have said the same about our parents, and their forbears,
Their progenitors, their ancestors, and theirs, and theirs, and theirs.

If they’d worked out, Eve and Adam, what the odds were in advance,
They’d have seen how almost vanishingly minuscule the chance
That you’d be the folk you are; and yet you are, for that’s empirical,
So you might say that your presence here is nothing but a miracle!

But the thing is, you could not be thinking wacky thoughts like these
If your ancestors had fancied folk on different family trees.
You exist, and that is that; it’s QED, it’s status quo.
Could it ever have been different? Ask your Mum (and let me know).

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