The entire world
is whitened from within
from two concerted, contemporaneous swans,
sometimes coiled together, convoluted,
sometimes facing one another
like two contrariwise question marks
with no distances of sentencing
separating them;
only together, they make a heart.
No division in their oneness,
there is nothing
between them but naked souls,
no enunciative needs
no semblance of clamour
not even a hint of tint,
on the white canvas
of their silence,
nothing ever
but
THE word
that is always
already
spoken.
