In a womb, a body is forming to receive a soul,
Arrives with the successful birth, via an invisible port,
And the Self becomes the 'I'; the manifested ego.
Life begins as a fabric woven from the Karma bygone.
II
I must now design the shape and form it desires.
Colors of vivid shades to choose from as the 'I' grows;
From child to adult and geriatric age it must attain.
Will cuts the fabric, and ambitions set boundaries.
III
Makes the costume for its presence, it displays on the scene.
Time for the existence on the earth unknown, and uncontrolled.
Not told when and where the exit from the stage is planned,
The use of time given, I must meticulously plan with love.
IV
God exists or does not--a useless debate I must pass.
Its a boxing match that has no winner or loser found.
Wager on the side, "He exists", wise Pascal advised.
My Existential philosophical mind says, "he is right.".