Silence begets nothingness, often the nothingness is so deep that it washes away everything. Sometimes I lay awake staring at my ceiling wondering why. I wonder why the cycle begins and if it ever ends. I wonder if life is just our lifetimes lie. I wonder if clouds are just balls of cotton in disguise. I wonder if dreams are just birds flying in the wind. My lifetime seems forever. Life seems limitless but I know that's just my imagination. Words seem so big, words seem endless. Words conceived and delivered, words intertwined and made believers. Words make our ends and our beginnings but who makes words. I lay awake and I think. My mind is like a storm, I think and I think, I think over and over again but nothing seems visceral or tangible enough to be true. Life is a lot of seeing, a lot being but how can I be when everything is already predetermined by what you see.