Buddha reasons

'Why I am, what I am?

often I sit occupied with nothing

but, this thought.

The thought is not mundane,

it had the might of a tide,

taking all other thoughts in its sway.

Yet, it had the plight of an infant,

searching for 'that' look of recognition.

With it, I am helpless

Without it, I am useless.

The crisis of identity is the cause

and I ask, 'Why I am, what I am?'

I am so I fear and yet cheer,

hope and yet struggle.

I am so I fight and yet achieve,

smile and yet decieve.

And the suffering has to be adorn

for we got the birth

and if birth leads to suffering

then why the will to be born?

I reason;

Perhaps we attach ourself to this world,

Perhaps we attach ourself to its objects,

This attachment is nothing

but, the desire for possession

and the possession is nothing

but, an effect of perception.

We touch, we hear and we see

and so the impulse of detachment flee.

We feel so we lust,

we need so arise a thirst.

I reason;

my senses lead to its cognition

but, could they do it,

without a mind-body conglomeration?

It was decided when I was still in the womb,

the impressions carved

casted by nothing

but,

glimpses of past

Travelled through all zones of time,

the journey of future, present and past,

I am still in the darkness

Just as I always was,

and in this perfect black of ignorance,

I feel the void within,

the enlightened though showed the path

but, the reason remains to be reasoned

'Why I am, What I am?'