Explanation: The Hunger of the Horizon
The poem “The Hunger of the Horizon” delves deeply into rereading one of the most powerful visual and conceptual archetypes: the horizon. Far from representing it as a mere demarcation line between sky and earth, the text elevates it to an almost mythological entity, endowed with consciousness and, above all, an inextinguishable appetite.
It begins with a traditional image of the horizon: “solemn line and mute,” “appears quiet, a promise absolute,” a reassuring and immutable boundary. This initial calm is, however, a “veil,” beneath which stirs an older and sinister force. The caesura introduced by “Yet” marks a turning point, revealing the true nature of the subject: an “ancient appetite,” a “hunger” that does not feed on ordinary matter (“Non of bread nor water”), but on what is intangible and vast.
The hunger of the horizon is an ontological hunger, one that devours spaces and lights, but also time (“every dawn that rises”), unexpressed potential (“every word unspoken”), and the transience of human aspirations (“every hope that takes its flights”). The verbs chosen by the poet – “swallows,” “sucks,” “devour,” – are powerful and describe a slow but inexorable, almost parasitic action that depletes the world of its definition and color. The farthest peak loses its contours, the sea its vividness, and even the fading day is “a slow meal that costs no behest,” emphasizing the lack of effort and the naturalness with which this entity consumes existence.
The nature of this hunger is paradoxical: it is “silent, with no sound,” a “void that feeds upon what can be seen.” It is not a desire that screams, but an intrinsic condition, an absence that fills itself by absorbing the manifestation of things. The horizon configures itself as “the greedy keeper of every blind desire that cannot blossom green,” a limit that not only prevents transcendence but swallows the very energy of hope and aspiration. It is a kind of Parnassus Wall that, instead of inspiring, suffocates the sprout of will.
The climax of this paradox is reached in the line “Eternally full, eternally empty.” The horizon incessantly devours, reaching an apparent saturation, but its essence remains an unbridgeable void, since its hunger is existential, not material. This condition makes it an existential figure for the human gaze. “It continues to devour our gaze,” suggesting that its action is not limited to external reality, but penetrates our very perception, limiting our ability to see beyond, to imagine.
The conclusion is bitter and deeply metaphysical: the result of this unstoppable voracity is the “remote thought of an infinite that knows no ways.” The horizon, while being the limit of the visible, offers no promise of transcendence or a haven in a benevolent infinity; rather, it delimits an indifferent infinity, where human aspiration dissolves without leaving a trace. The poem, therefore, transforms the horizon from a symbol of hope and reachable limit into the embodiment of a silent and unavoidable greed, confronting us with the imposing indifference of the cosmos and the finiteness of our perception.