He Cares Not

Death does not care if you are poor or wealthy, he visits you all the same.
He does not care if you have a bible or a pack of cigarettes on the bedside
  table.
Death does not care if you are Christian, or Jew or Muslim or Buddist; he    doesn't Even care if you have no beliefs at all,
He will come anyway.
He doesn't care if you have an opulent bedroom, or a tiny space in a
  nursing home.
He will come.
He doesn't care if you have Hope.
He doesn't care if you are Ready to Go,
He will come when he wants to.
Sometimes he comes quickly, without warning.
Other times he lingers, taking his time, lurking about the room,
Trailing fingers over objects.
Waiting.
He comes with a soft sigh, or an anguished cry.
But he doesn't come alone.
The Angels trail behind.
The angels of light and the angels of the dark,
Waiting, wondering, who will get the job of escort.
Eyeing each other suspiciously,
The Angels of Light murmuring softly, happily, to each other.
The Angels of death, guarded, wary, anxious to be done with this business.
Death ignores them.  He cares not for whom the escort will be.
He cares only for himself.
He smiles...job security...and he is very busy.