Youth ran away toward the front,
  as death pursued from the rear

Catching me inside the paradoxical
  whipsaw of life

I stopped, as the boy continued into the distance,
  but the reaper stopped too

Wanting me to run some more,
  preferring to attack from behind

As I turned to face my stalker, his eyes went down;
  and his presence cast no shadow

He took two steps back, but I reached for his hand
  while saying:

         “Walk with me, keep up with me
          your job here still not finished
          The boy has indeed gone, but
          the man is not yet ready to go”

(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2017)