The poetic act consists in suddenly seeing that an idea splits into a number of motives of equal value and in grouping them; they rhyme. - Stéphane Mallarmé

The scene illustrates but the idea, not any actual action, in a hymen (out of which flows Dream), tainted with vice [vicieux] yet sacred, between desire and fulfillment, perpetration and remembrance: here anticipating, there recalling, in the future, in the past, under the false appearance of a present [apparence fausse de présent]. That is how the Mime operates, whose act is confined to a perpetual allusion without breaking the ice or the mirror [sans briser la glace]; he thus sets up a medium [milieu], a pure medium, of fiction.

I wait, but do not know for what or why Or perhaps you are uttering the last bruised sighs, Ignorant of the mystery and of your cries, Of a childhood feeling its frozen gems Being broken off at last amidst its dreams.

Poetry is the language of a state of crisis.