Gedicht over een hologram

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I am a lidless room where all inside me is lost.
I have my own perspective, my own scale.
I am as perfect as my original, its spirit distilled.
Bone-coloured objects surface within me like moths.
A blind projection without light.
I am discussed as a fact, and as if logic may unveil my truth
that childlike abstract, I continue to elude definition.
I am a Hologram.

Martin Richardson