There is time, but there is no time.
Memory deludes us.
What we perceive is manifestation –
sequential, simultaneous, spontaneous.
Yet we are blessed and cursed with remembrance,
constructing and perfecting with imagination
a past that is fictitious,
a past that resembles a story,
a past that has to be believed to exist.
What if we have no memory?
What if we have no story?
Every moment is the here and now.
There is no yesterday; there is no a while ago.
It is impossible to conceive tomorrow
(for we can’t imagine what would happen later without a past as reference).
Our awareness is thus, of immediate reality,
of that continuous, instantaneous vibration
of that magical string
which weaves and forms
the fabric we call: our universe.
Perhaps then, perhaps,
we can finally perceive the truth.
But the truth will be fleeting;
Because we can’t remember.
But the truth will also be eternal;
Because we can’t forget…
it is always present.