Inside a world.

Outside only mirrored.

A life of memories.

That formed character.

Is deepened by decisions.

Constructs reality.

Like a painters brush.

Drawing lines.

Between sand and sky.

From ocean grounds.

To ceiling’s stars.

What is life then?

More.

Than ones mind knows.

Than ones eyes see.

Than ones tongue describes.

Than ones heart feels.

Than ones soul guides.

It’s everything and nothing.

It’s as much death, than it is life.

It goes beyond and further.

And will stay the same.

Forever.

Until now.

When everything changes.

Again.