Grains of Sand

If there's a rhyme or reason to the world,
a purpose that is yet to be revealed,
I'm losing hope of seeing it unfurled.
Opaque as ever, it remains concealed

I do not speak of insight or of truth.
Eurekas that light up with sudden flare
were surely present, more so in my youth.
Indeed I've had enough of them to spare.

But genuine profundity escapes,
and wisdom doesn't lag too far behind.
And purpose? Not a hint of how it shapes
the universe. A challenge to our kind.

Am I resigned to never understand?
Stars in the sky, each like a grain of sand