Afghan children playing soccer in front of the ruined Darul Aman Palace on the outskirts of Kabul from http://www.dawn.com/news/1050835

When we were children and the game wouldn’t go our way
We would reinvent the rules of the game so that we might win
And others around us would cry out unfair, you changed the rules
But in our childish foolishness we believed we were masters of the game
And the rules could be bent to serve our needs and wants and desires
In a world that was bound in an orbit with us at the center
 
Yet, when we were older the rules became hardened in the game of life
Others stepped in as referees ensuring that we played by some rulebook
We were never allowed to study or read but which defined the roles
We were expected to play in work, at home, in relationship and in life
And if we dared to cry out that the rules were unfair we would be penalized
For the rules couldn’t be bent to serve our wants and needs and desires
In a world that was bound in an orbit where we are not the center
 
But sometimes the game of life breaks us leaving us shattered on the field
The rules we tried to work within only served to beat us down and confine us
The game became a sentence in which we were expected to serve our term
And the referees became the warden keeping us imprisoned within our cells
For the rules were there to keep a check on our wants and needs and desires
In a world that was binds us in orbit to someone else’s sun
 
But sometimes there is wisdom in childhood in knowing the rules can change
In reinventing the rules that don’t work and ignoring the self-appointed referees
In playing a game where we might flourish and our lives matter
Where we can once again believe that we are the masters of the game
And the rules could be bent to serve our needs and wants and desires
In a world no longer forced to orbit around someone else’s star