Life Within the Hologram

Must the moments always
Lose themselves in the sublime
Like pink clouds on mallow mornings,
Or can they be, at last, the whole
Denied in their slots of images,
Their bowdlerized figments of truth?

Space is a movie spooled in time's reel
And the glow inside the cave where
The hero kills the hidden portion of himself
Is the universe entire,
The wire that lights the sunrise,
The eye that's still as all the vapors move.

A voice comes in although our lips are dead,
The eardrums hum though there is only bone,
And yet those words are seen as waves of sound,
Emptier than what holds them and lets them go.

The clouds expanding outward blacken as they thicken.
Below some papers blow, narrowing the road.
The universe is speaking through a leaf now
Thoughts stilled and whole as crystal,
But I can't stop to hear it, for it could not exist
Outside my movement.