The ebbing tide

An ebbing  tide, is now  arising; the hollow bell, echoes  its final chime;

In the eve’n’g  sky it slowly rises, to then softly,  fade,  far off to die.

And the wind, blows cold at midnight, as the footsteps, they do recede;

The whispered one, is gone forever : There’s nothing  left, here to receive.

And low, the voices, here do murmur; with cold hard murder, on their minds;

As the  final rope is ever tightened,  so now  I slip, to my demise.

Don't cry for me, my dearest lover;  don't even waste,  a single tear;

For  I am now,  upon a journey:  and it's far,  away from here.

No I don't know , where I'm going; I only know, where I've come from,

And this walk is always endless, along a path, forever long.

© adh 2015