Absolution third 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, that then fades away, far off to die.

The wind here blows, so cold at midnight; as fallen footsteps, they do recede.

And the shades that mass from the walls are near close to hysterical laughing,

As their near swollen eyes with mirthless laughter, begin to blister and then to bleed;    

“The whispered one is gone forever!”: There’s nothing left  here, for us  to receive.

 And 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 demise.

So don't cry for me, my dearest lover; don't even waste, one single tear;

For I am now, upon a journey:  off  to a place that’s  far, far  from  here.

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

And this long walk here, is  always endless, along a path, that ‘s  forever long.

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   which  ebb  far, far away.

© adh 2015