See the not visible

Abstract

The poet is a guardian of beauty. But only because he knows that with it and in front of it nothing can be done. If beauty is that which sustains itself from a spotless over time, the beautiful is because of its impotence. It is beautiful because it vanishes, because it changes, because it gives up its space: because it dies. Not when it dies, but because its mortality says that, being time, it is not, nor can it ever be, above or safe from it. It is beautiful because it cannot overcome time – because it is made of it, that is what it is – but it is because, as a limit, as a bar of waiting, its power refers to a margin, to an instant eviction of time, to a sort of fainting in duration.