at the white heat?

DARE you see a soul at the white heat?
Then crouch within the door.
Red is the fire’s common tint;
But when the vivid ore

Has sated flame’s conditions,
Its quivering substance plays
Without a color but the light
Of unanointed blaze.

Least village boasts its blacksmith,
Whose anvil’s even din
Stands symbol for the finer forge
That soundless tugs within,

Refining these impatient ores
With hammer and with blaze,
Until the designated light
Repudiate the forge.

Emily Dickinson, Complete Poems (1924) [Part One: Life – XXXIII]

A partir da leitura do livro Como a Sombra Que Passa de Antonio Muñoz Molina.

Sentamo-nos a escrever, dia após dia, querendo que se reavive o fogo da invenção, que a alma chegue ao calor branco, como diz Emily Dickinson.

Antonio Muñoz Molina