Final Whisper Poem by Uriah Hamilton

You must pardon me
my long face in the sun
and my rainy attitude of despair,
it is the only way I know to get along.

I try to demonstrate
traditional stoic values of self-denial
and keep all the pain within,
but it's just another thing
I've failed at again.

I want to be fearless
at the doorstep of death,
take no consideration
for my final breath,
but I'm certain
I'll be squirming like a worm.

I hope devoutly
in Jesus, Buddha,
St. Francis, and Mahavira;
I try to keep my hands
from injury to others.

I presume death is the end
to this accidental life
but I maintain a candlelight glimmer of faith
in reincarnation heaven.

Will you be concerned
not to see me tomorrow
at our usual spot?
You can be assured
I'll appear before you at least once more
before the final whisper is silenced.