I struggled hard to get out of it,
But stronger it is, to let you out,
The legs are huge, I barely compete,
To fight with courage, I stood still.

O creator! My creator ! give me more strength,
To beat this mammoth legs,
I slowed down, slowly and slowly,
Bewilderingly looking for a way out.

Longer the fight, the crazier I get,
Nevertheless i tries, long drawn it is,
The weaker i goes, she spews all over me,

O creator! My creator! thanks for the lives all around me.

Locus of control:

Energy system

The spider pours out of its mouth long threads and weaves them into cobwebs. Sometimes, it gets itself entangled in the net of its own making.

Humans too make nets of their own ideas and get entangled in it. The wise man should, therefore, abandon all worldly thoughts and think only of Brahman

Motivation:

What The Heart Of The Young Man Said To The Psalmist.
Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world’s broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act,— act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o’erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.

A psalm of life by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow