The Night is here...

The night is here,
stretching its skin
over the city
where I was born.

I am the skin
that wears this night
sculpting my body
like the shadows
that have no eyes or ears.

The night is here,
and I see my mother
filling up its empty
crevices with her hands.
She loves the night
imagining itto be her child.

It smells, she says
of her breast milk.
The night is here,
I stand next to the painting
swallowing its million colours
in one breath.
The cobwebs
in my throat
are coloured
by the grey brush
of the painter.

The night is here
and I see lazy rainbow
sprouting from
my nave
lthe chakras of Vishnu
the skulls of Shiva's necklace
the lotus of Brahma
balance my navel
on the other end.
I awake from the dream,
The night is here,
and I see the shadows
walking through me
holding the maps
and the seeds.

A seed plucked
from my father drops
on the map
burning all the boundaries
that were everborn on its body.
The night births me
on that map.

I am born
to the shadows
and the maps.