Sweetness Of The Decent Night by Ivan Donn Carswell
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 and scented blooms and sweetness of the decent night. © I.D.Carswell
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