a name of power

we ask the gods to fill each aching heart
with answers to the pain but they are dumb
our thoughts are frozen and our bodies numb
we seem but puppets set to play a part
doomed if we but knew it from the start
the victims of some random divine thumb
while in the background lutes and lyres strum
and critics judge our pain to be bad art
allow some time and we may find a home
for all the angry thoughts that are at play
about the things that we cannot control
we're held on strings and not allowed to roam
we know our time is a short cloudy day
but still we yearn and hope to be made whole