Tracking Life

Is there a purpose to this world, Forged by a man and led by his soul, Something pure to make us whole, Guided by heart and reasons beyond? Or is this all just a god's game, In his garden are we cornered to play, Too narrow minded to be self-aware To the extent of finding our own way? Years wondering we may spend Hoping to find that one way We'd feel right following to the grave Unregretful and peaceful on our final day. A treacherous quest, mildly to say As what we find may cause us dismay Since not all paths seem light in advance Some require our sincere faith.