Life is a form,figured and formed by death.Each time I think of you and I feel you on my side ,I deny death ,and I push her back to retreat to her nest.So she will not be able to to figure you to her desire form.
Life is the form we desire
That is how we make life in the form of form.
We do not make form out of life,or living form
We form them as a form.
Here is how Giuseppe Ungaretti looks at it:
D'altri diluvi una colomba ascolto/
I hear a dove from other floods/