Aether this is or is not

Time becomes irrelevant
days become weeks
and years become seconds
there is only this face
fading in rather than out
eons have passed since the last
or our first embrace
Cleopatra herself had not
graced books of loves history
since we were last together
imaginations glory
inventing stories to tell children
creativity flows freely
between our souls
The joy of made up memories
or remembering what
has not yet happened
Both are much the same
both lead to a future of
your own making
and a past that is the future
Nothing much matters
in the scheme of things
So why not give in
to the process of remembering
what you already know
I was like a thirsty traveler
alone in the dessert
suddenly water arose
from air under my nose
I drank from that fountain
and the water was real
and quenched my thirst
I can't seem to leave it's comfort
Less it disappear
turning out to be a mirage
of all my hopes