Blame

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Crushed shards lay untouched
Widows grasp and clutch
Those of the past give no embrace
What of this world
With so much sorrow
Barely making it ’til the morrow
What of this life
That must someday end
Carefully crafted by thy hand
Meaning and purpose
We give chase
Hoping someday we will embrace
What a funny dream this all is
People prod and poke
Turning it this way and that
Only to lay claim on mundane
Quenching their thirst as they blame
Never comprehending the truth
The life we live is but a game
A game of the universe to expand
A game of emotions it demands
Demanding of love, sorrow, and shame
Asking of hope, cognitive thought, and play
Truth is we will never know
How to stop or go
The rules are ever-changing
To find those to blame