Azcharave
Down in the caves
Of Azacharave
And under the moon
In an infinite plane
Nothing exists and nothing sleeps
While nothing and nobody
Washes the sheets.
In a darkened existence
And nothing but space
To occupy a certain time
That never took place
Or took distance.
Or took shape nor size
Nor color nor life.
Out in some cosmic hemisphere
That takes illusion as the truth
The atoms are forms in which appear
From imaginary roots
Ultimately are comprised
Of one that distributes
and becomes all that is
And all that might
Creating and obtaining
A holographic life.