The Confidence of Existence

There is an air of confidence in some people which peaks my admiration

I reckon that my attraction to it is because I lack that kind of a determination

What I fail to understand though is the source of the surety of all that talk

When I didn't even have a choice of whether on this earth I wanted to walk

Are you sure of exactly where you came from and where you’ll go?

Where then did you get that prideful gait and contempt you won’t forgo?

Where do those dull eyes of yours gather the conviction to be fierce?

Where does the sharpness of your tongue find a whetstone to pierce?

I, for one, spend my living days in fear and dread of everything around me

Abandoned by enlightenment, all understanding and reason eludes me

Don’t think that I mock you, I rather want to take you for your word

If you tell me how your heart doesn't shudder at the horrors in the world

Your life is adorned with every good thing that exists under the sun

Should I assume then that you’ve found meaning and completed your run?

I can, maybe now, begin to understand the predicament of the denouncer

Who sits at the foot of trees looking for a moksha or at best for his creator

But all your explanations defending the absolute matter of fact of your life

Wreaks nothing but emptiness of words that cannot hide your secret strife

Should you then believe that I’ve stumbled upon something higher?

I admit in the wretchedness of pride, the illusion of life eludes me further