As the smell of fresh dug, earth comes my way,

For sun or time is no longer a dynamic in this life’s game,

And I….and I, and I.... no more shall I… ever… be….ashamed.

for it is acquiescently quiet in here,

And this, oh eternal darkness

I no longer have to fear.

Though in truth I must confess,

That I speak of this under much duress.

For my once opulent silence has now become a frightful oppression,

As I move my lips in a muted and useless confession.

For the words that once filled my mind, tend now to mingle and whir,

As they give way to the exploitations of a disconcerting past….

For all…yes all has become to me…a perpetual and darkened blur.

And I shall slip on... through this crack in the abyss without ever being heard.

OH

Yes,

It is quiet in here,

When you are all alone…

OH

yes

this is

The conclusion

Of my

Transgressions

silent

little

Song

J. Allen Wilson © 2004