My purpose

What am I doing here, is there a purpose for my existence

Pre-ordained by someone or something

That mapped out my life from conception

Determined who my parents would be

Where I would be born

Every moment pre-determined

If that were so, I must have existed before I was conceived

Even in the creator’s mind

What was my blueprint

What was I earmarked for

What is a stillborn baby earmarked for

Or the Syrian child washed up on a lonely beach

Or a Yemeni starving to death

Are we so powerless, so lacking in intelligence

That we cannot see that accountability stops with us

That there is no divine superpower to save us from ourselves

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