Existential comic strip angst

I was an existentialist long ago
I was a satsangi when I sank low
I don’t “think” I own a GPS device
To tell me of my particular vice
Of thrashing around in piteous angst
For to whom can I give thanks?
“Condemned to be free” as Sartre said
Until he reached near his death bed
In desperate need of a loving god
But only silence bestowing no nod
So around in circles we all plod on
Distracted by the world but not for long
Till a voiceless voice whispers to us
Start all over again, this you must.
Lose your learning, become a silly sod
Open your blind eyes and see that all is god
Elizabeth W

Elizabeth, nice poem. However, I was curious about the Sartre allusion. It’s dubious that he had a death bed conversion, though Christians like to believe this.
Here’s an interesting blog post that casts some light on how Sartre viewed religion near the end of his life:
http://suitableformixedcompany.blogspot.com/2005/05/satre-quote-we-get-context.html

Brian, Sartre had no death bed conversion – if that’s how my words read. He had a yearning yearn for a loving god towards the end but complete and totsl disbelief.
Thanks for your response.
Elizabeth W

It is interesting that the author doubted Sartre’s lucidity at the time of his death by indicating that “He was a pitiful, sick man who urinated on himself and was a drug addict..”
Aren’t most of us pitiful, sick drug addicts who urinate on ourselves when we are on our deathbeds?
My mother, dying of cancer on her deathbed, hardly knew who I was because she was on so much morphine. She certainly was pitiful and the house reeked of her excrement.
An atheist, she had no thought of God or an afterlife even when facing death. She just died.