The Battle Of All Ends Poem by Sebastian Sandok

Is it merely a matter of time?
Before ships will splinter upon the stony shore,
Between nights final breath and mornings evenflow,
Will its terror echo through out the land, writhing the souls
Of intrepid riders that cantor to their destiny, their doom.
Shall the innocent flee before such a shadowed darkness?
For daughters to take hind’ trees of Weeping Widows,
As fathers and sons of fathers transpire into gaunt, malaise figures
Vanishing in such a haze of intrusion.

On the brink of Apocalypse,
Will the sunrise be seen through the shroud of gray?
Will the prayers of the faithful be heard in the screaming skies?
Will those that besiege the on slot be victor or peril?
Shall only the eerie chant of silence remain?
Is this not what The Battle of All Ends invoke in us?