autobiography with redundancies

A Poem by Hsien ku

She is moving over grasslands, facing downwards, looking under stones for something precious something known -- feels her way by instinct walking, as birds do, casting her long shadow, seeing only shade but wishing light -- now turns her body to face the sun, shadow also turning, spindly legs their beetle-black, withdraw -- until unbidden fade, her own legs cold in rasping grass, she feels (but not enough) , the agitated light, now folding in and out of cloud -- and soon in stillness stays until unbidden wind and muttering rain, a sound, no sound, no sooner night unfolding into stars, now out and into cloud, illume, but not enough, the ash grey dove grey sky and she, from stillness turns, by instinct goes -- only this roar of nonexisting in her skull and this need to feel the world as
real