Sweetness Of The Decent Night

They talked to me again today,
they spoke in gentle tones and
said the things I ought to hear
then lead me where the
frangipani flowered;

they said the heady scent was
meant to soothe the wicked
wounds I wore, to ease the
twisted scars that tore my
inner peace.

The power was overwhelming
and I soared in weightless flight,
I spun amongst the blooms,

I wheeled and turned with agile
ease in pungent breezes thicker
than the blood that thundered
in my veins;

would I could remain amid the
scented blooms, to loft beside the
waxen leaves in pretty flight.

Today I walk between the dead
and those who never lived,
uncertain in my strides, awaiting
who decides my daily fate.

The smile that tilts my lips is
rooted deep in flight of scented blooms
and sweetness of the decent night.
© I.D.Carswell