absolution fourth position

A cold ebbing tide is now arising, as a hollow bell echoes it’s near final chime;
In the steel eve’n sky, the sound slowly rises, it then fades away far off to die.
The wind here blows so cold at midnight, as fallen footsteps, they do recede;
And in the mass from the walls all about me, mirthless laughter runs incessantly.
These low voices rise in hostility murmur, with cold hard murder, boiling their minds;
As the final rope is now ever tightened, so I silently slip to my darkest demise.
But don't cry for me my dearest sweet lover, don't even waste one single tear;
For I am now upon my longest journey, off to a place, that’s far better than here.
It's true that I don't  know where I'm going, I only know, where I've just come from;
But the actions that led to these final  footsteps are  taken from me  and morally wrong.
So someone please find me some soft absolution not much  -just a draft-  In an open doorway;
Or a quick little pull that frees the soft mind-set, from this forest of tides that ebb far, far away.

From this  forest  of tides that ebb far far away.

© adh 2015