Beneath the blackened silver sky,

A blanket of quiet twilight lies,

Cold winds through whispering branches fly,

And halt my step with startled cries.

Listening closely, silent, still,

As whispers weave, their voices fill,

The air with echoes of my sins,

With bitter laughter, truth begins.

Branches stretch, like skeletal hands,

Desperate fingers, through dark lands,

Reaching towards me from the night,

A forest ancient, out of sight.

How have I walked this path so blind?

Is this but fear within my mind?

Breath grows ragged, lungs grow tight,

Dragged into woods of endless night.

Still I hear their mocking sound,

In darkened woods, my sins abound.

Oh God, if this is but a dream,

Awaken me on forgiven ground!