Final

Poem I did many years ago

Silence. Thunderous silence floods my pathway to perdition.

Alone, I am accompanied by my demons.

Walk with me, you hellbound, for I am your ending.

Is this not my final hour?

Violence. Peaceful violence sweeps our history's tradition.

All gone, the justified and brilliant reason.

Talk to me, my brother, and tell me you're listening.

In this, my final hour.

Evil. Pure loving evil on the hill; that blur of a vision.

Standing nameless, famous in His pleasin'.

So many, you devil, you've taken to Hell; descending.

But not now, my final hour.

Warrior. Reluctant warrior, soldier with no mission.

Less likely to fight than to speak treason.

But changes my soul takes, true manhood impending.

Upon this, my final hour.

Death whispers to me, encouraging my redemption.

Walking, running slowly into the season.

The rain, the snow, the leaves befriending

The grounds of my final hour.

Be you ready, for I live my life within this time. 

Sword drawn, gun firing, instruments 'a glower

Cold hand steady as I die tonight, spirits realign

In rest it is my final hour.

Reviews

[Trigorin]

Not bad, but some of your word choice seems a little odd. I'm not sure if I like your technique of making one statement at the start of each stanza - it seems a little blunt. Still, you've gotten your message across. Well done.