20160311

I think reality is slipping on me; i.e. reality is not this, not in time.  Time does not exist.  The standard false reality is what is perceived in the now like a flash print photograph thieving attention towards what was or might be.  Fear, fixation, and hope regret the density in distancing from what is not real as if it were real. 

This realm of exuberance, cosmic dance beat, the sensation of touching and enjoyment: none of it is real.  The popularity, the nationality, the religion, the tales, the genetics, the act, the birth and ultimately death: none of it is real. 

What is real; an absolute stillness beyond time in parceled components in motion, the arrangement is arbitrary.  Identity, being in moments of how, where, the maximum of what is not real is peeled back, that removed is as close as anyone can get to what is real. 

We as humans are incapable of perceiving what is real.  All we can do is shed as much as we can of what is not real and attempt to see what is real like a silhouette.