Answer:
I am the black child of a white father a wingless bird flying even to the clouds of heaven. I give birth to tears of mourning in pupils that meet me even though there is no cause for grief and at once on my birth I am dissolved into air.
I am the outstretched fingers that seize and hold the wind. Wisdom flows from me in other hands. Upon me are sweet dreams dreamt my merest touch brings laughter.
My days are numbered.
I come in different colors and shapes. Some parts of me are curvy, some are straight. I look like I can belong anywhere but there is only one right place for me. What am I?
What do you call a pig that is no fun to be around?
The answer I give is yes, but what I mean is no. What was the question?