I am going from the dark desert
\nof my moon,
\nthe white open flower of my dream.
\nI am going with the silver emptiness
\nof my eyes,
\nto see,
\nto be warm,
\nto feel the flight of my vacuumless wings,
\nto reach the end of the infinite wall,
\nto touch the beginnings of eternal dust.<\/p>\n
I want to see time measured by clocks,
\nhear an hour pass in the silence of sleep.
\nI need this to be true,
\nto be more than a ghost,
\na fog.
\nI need the dimensions of the world
\ninside me like a sea,
\nlike an ocean full of dawn and light,
\nswallowing the sun,
\nraising the stars.<\/p>\n
I need this in the month of my hungry moon,
\nthe pain of my birth,
\nthe pain of my dying.
\nIf you ask why I care,
\nI\u2019m a different species
\nthat lives without questions,
\nthat lives in the recesses
\nand the ceiling of the air.
\nI am an Indian\u2019s child,
\nthe son of a machinist,
\noffspring of words.<\/p>\n
I have lived and died every day of my life,
\nI have taken nothing for granted.
\nI have been given color and light,
\nand perfume,
\nand fear,
\nfelt the love of a tree,
\nconversed with the emptiness of a glass.
\nTo know,
\nto know,
\nand in the end they have told me,
\nbe still and you will know,
\nand be friend
\nto a blade of grass.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I am going from the dark desert of my moon, the white open flower of my dream. I am going with the silver emptiness of…<\/p>\n