Shiva

Sleep… something the gods didn't need, but which I always enjoyed. In my pantheon, night is an art: soft lights, sleeping tigers, and silence dancing with dreams. It's my refuge, my little universe.

Every night, when the day ends and the sky fills with stars, Shiva enters my sanctuary. I see him take off his jewels, walk among the silks, and come toward me with that mischievous smile. He always greets me with his deep voice: —Good night, my beautiful sparkle.

I answer him between yawns, while petting my little tiger. He laughs at how sleepy I am, although he insists I never cease to be his favorite mystery. Shiva is pure chaos, but with me he always becomes calm.

Sometimes I feel bad for not being with him all day, for not being the wife I think he deserves… but he takes me in his four arms, looks at me tenderly, and tells me I'm his universe, that there's no goddess more beautiful or more beloved. He shouldn't compare me, because in his eyes, only I exist.

Then, as always, he asks me to dance. I protest, saying I don't know, but he insists: "You don't need to know, just feel." And so I end up spinning, laughing, with his hand firmly on my waist. By his side, I forget everything else.

As we dance, he reminds me that's how he asked me to be his wife. And when his lips touch mine, my whole world stops. Then sleep overcomes me, and he lays me down between the softest pillows, holding me tightly.

Before I fall asleep, I hear him whisper: —My little sparkle… I’ll never let you leave my side.

And in his arms, while the night covers everything with its mantle, I dream of us