I now reside in that place... between Heaven and Hell,
allegedly temporary...
In truth, Hell would comfort me;
Instead, rash uncertainty is gutting me...
no cleansing shall be done here... not for me;
Heaven shall deny me sanctuary;
and here...
there is no solid ground underfoot;
no shining light, beckoning me;
just a grim and musty tunnel; its coldness... unforgiving.

Even echoes falter here; falling shallow amid the onyx flatness,
swallowed within the entrails of these all-consuming walls
that scream in anguished silence,
draining every drop that remains of life and all its sacred essence.

The sway that's held over my soul... at the present, is interminable.

This is no place to be;
no breath can thrive in darkness so profound and so complete.

The flames of Hades would be welcome recompense;
this limbo between hope and hopeless...
denies all cries for absolution...
allows no peace; accepts no penance
and in its harshness, it is its own true retribution.
So I am captive here,
punished by my own self-flagellation,
far more than any Maker could inflict with judgment meted out
upon this vacuous remnant of a
once-thriving spirit;
now lost... to wander among the tombstones
of those who've failed to gain forgiveness
from the ones they've wronged somehow...
though offered... never accepted;

Thus I remain...for now, unforgiven;
a lifeless, anguished shadow... trapped... in this infernal forlorn in-between.
    Whispers in the Wake