Constant Change

Change, constant change. A deep abyss of our minds credibility, waves upon waves of dreams. Do our thoughts manifest into the reflection of our faces? And do the stories of our lives become the ink against the pages? The plans we make for the future, a life of never ending branches, do we really mean to strive to afford survival? My eyes define so much more then words, and my heart is bearing so much more then descriptions. What is life when a soul is empty? Eyes that are drained of all meaning. Does the bullet kill us? Or is it the one pulling the trigger that really dies? We see ourselves as fragile, but our essence will never decease. It's the choices that we make that lay the paths beneath our feet. Such great power in our hands. Shall we choose to lay down the spells that create the enchantment, is for each of us to seek.