We are told everyone has the same view of the universe

I woke to the black sky beyond the blue
there the stars like electric bees
webbed space with wavering lines
and loosed a phosphorus pollen
on clouds, on trees
on the vague and chilly calyx of the moon

no sound, no color, no angle
nothing that was not imaged round
and each thing’s roundness a decay
a sinking from its origin
curving back, a failed venture

the gates of the skull sprang open
night poured in among the bone
darkness was the lid of a vast eye
pressed by the heavy stars
and I within its sealed and struggling vision