Measured time is illusory – so much, that memories, in so far as they can be remembered now, are no more real than the present moment, which itself is completely and utterly transient. Poof!
It seems the facets of illusion build up to everything we know with our minds – imagine the vast nothingness beyond the veil, the real Real. Where even illusion itself, is illusion. Yet, cut from the reed bed, as we drift serenely on still waters, we all hold this world, this trickery, in reverence…for even illusion – wrought, nurtured, and rendered with utmost sincerity – enjoys perpetuity.
