The chimera that burns, and is not in vain: they become matter, cycle. Where chance and not by chance infuse the charade of the inexplicable and suspend the addiction to logic. Everything in poetry is possible and liable to change, the line, the risk, the imminence.
The poem wants to be life, it germinates in the imagined universe, wrapping and more than perfect of the stars and is consumed in light and heat and, in this movement, something that we gain or lose, something that remains.