““Ilim al-Insan (Sonnet 3101-3102) Truth is the letter, I am only the postman. One postman snuffeth, another cometh - no message is magnum opus, no messenger final prophet. Either burn me, or burn with me, I want neither sheep nor mice. Body born of mud dissolves in mud, one person's sacrifice jolts a planet back to life. Obedience doesn't civilize a planet, sacrifice does - Naskar's work is almost done, I wonder who's gonna come next - who's gonna be the Second Naskar, and the Third, and the Fourth - I'm not interested in who'll carry my bloodline, I'm interested in who'll carry my madness, my madness for tolerance, my madness for oneness - always flawed, but never rigid, always making mistakes, but also correcting themselves, never without blind spots, but no blind spot worshipped as truth - tolerant of harmless make believe, but never of harmful blind belief, activist of humane reason, not elitist logic. I wonder, who's gonna be the next postman! I wonder, who's gonna be the next Naskar!””
