When I looked at the sky, I found that today, space and time converge as initial forces in the constitution of the scientific view of origin. Of course, I want to know the scientific truth that is increasingly elusive to the common man. But truth no longer matters in living. It will never be possible to seek a logical answer where truth is better than falsehood. And if this question only matters within ethics, the path of the complete human being, we will find that goodness is beautiful. Beauty, the flower, gives meaning to the song. Good is preferred to evil because it is right. We find beauty without seeking it. The beauty of the flower signifies the song of humankind. An encounter that completes a symbiotic, evolutionary, and natural relationship.
Only the voice of song builds human spaces. A space where tone and pause resonate. A space of air that inflates the spirit and constitutes it. The voice of temporal and evanescent dialogue is the space where we are a speaking community, an instrument of the existence of poetic living. While the alphabetic past of our thought transformed 26 silent fates into the lines of a world map, speech and writing are far from being representations of one another. The speaking I speaks to a listening you. The writing I tells it about the silence of its thought. The written I tells the future I about the differences that time marks on being.
And it is in the poem where the resounding voice constructs human space. But for song to be heard, it cannot only be an autophonic gesture that allows thought to be constituted. It is when it is beautiful and pleasurable that the meaning of poetic inhabitation is founded. It is not done to communicate difference, but to constitute the commonality of the space of linguistic inclusion to which we are thrown as a natural species. Poetic founding is an example of the work of art. Here is where the poet presents poetry as the language capable of transcending the meaning of this and that and expressing the unspeakable. It is the place where names and things merge and are the same. We must return to language to see how the image can say what, by nature, language is incapable of saying. Language is meaning: the sense of this and that. In itself, for the poet, language is an infinite possibility of meanings. The image is a phrase in which the plurality of meanings does not disappear. We now understand that the aesthetic truth of the image is valid only within its own universe. The poetic image reproduces the plurality of reality and grants it unity. This unity is a symbol of the human condition.
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