Night

Night is not a mouth,nor is it an eye,the gazes that roll up the sleeves of dreams to remind me.Night is an unborn dream,a fetus carried by a great, divine womb,eternal, mortal in appearance but immortal in form.Night is the black angel of paradise that guards us.They have lied to us,Paradise is not light,nor are angels white and winged,nor is the sky that stretches above our headsInfinite!All of these, the universe and I along with it,have a beginning and an endthat tangles within the eyes,and lives and dies in the flutter of eyelashes.Nor does the night have stars, no,I am the light, the first and last star,the soul that hoists the sails of lightand sails calmly toward.... toward....with no shore in mind where it wants to rest the sails of light,with no shore where it wants to landthe dreams or the warmth of the soulgathered in a fist.I have embraced the night,and curved all my words around her dark neck,sensual and scented with light, like a stone that one dayI will throw at the night,to knock it to the ground, and open its eyes to the light.Until that time I am Night...