Changelings satisfy their form, but always desire more. It seems that having desire is enough of a ballast to quench their ire. When challenges reveal themselves a changeling must take its own form and must bare its own reflection just as the living remove their visage at the slightest danger. Will becomes a guiding principle and struggle becomes a dot lost in a large void. Why try to find a needle in a haystack when you can add more needles. The human condition is then a delusion of illusion, an expansion and contraction of reality that manifests all sentient forms. Life does not need an absolute truth to find a way, it needs only to reach.