Death Poem by Paul Newman

Death will come to us all.
when it comes, I don't want to see it.
I want it to come from behind and like a cowards knife take me.
I don't want to look upon his face,
but I know it will not be, for I have already seen his gaze.
He has already cast me a glance as he passed by to torture some other soul.
He did not speak, he has no words, his eyes tell all.
He is watching, waiting for when I am off guard,
waiting for when my body and spirit is low,
So he can take me, drain me,
Slowly take my breath, and breathe his foul stench over me.

I believe in Jesus, but not in God.
I believe in sacred words, but not the bible.
If I believe at all, it is in me, my desire to live, to feel the wind, the rain,
the sun and the snow.
To see the stars and look upon a new moon born as all things are, when something old dies.
To share a fragile beautiful life with friends old and new that I meet on my way.
I pray to myself, my own free spirit strong and pure.
And now as he passes by, he no longer looks my way.
I have cheated him of his quarry,
I have won - this time.