Thought is an echo of original conception.

Synapses firing across the brain rippling into perceived patterns

And a buffer zone of acceptable reality.

A past and a present formed only to explain our existence in this moment.

Yet,  it is only an echo.

Only a reflection of a reflection.

The telephone game played across synapses.

A distorted view of the true reality.

All thought is past and cannot be now.  All that can ever happen is now.

Thought is the illusion.