Cursed With Wonder Poem by Chase Gagnon

Last night while crossing a field
I parted the silk canopy of moonlight
and stepped into a bed of wild flowers.
They sang me lullabies in the cool Language of darkness;
the wind was their voice.
I laid my head near their whispers
and their shadows engraved my body
with hieroglyphic patterns.
This field was their ancient kingdom
and I was a trespasser
forever cursed with wonder
by lilies that closed
when I awoke,
trapping me inside their spell.