Death doesn't judge

Death is everywhere, all the time. To many it’s a word, a state; to others is a deity; some others find it ineffable and undeniable, and for a few more it’s fascinating or yearned. However, Death doesn’t discriminate, doesn’t decide, doesn’t save.

In its clothes, its fingers, its lanterns, or whatever people imagined it with, it took the souls of every living being that populates the Earth. Of the ants which humans stepped on without noticing, of the trees cut down for the new buildings, of the dog that was beaten to death, of the cat that die in their caretaker’s arms, of the poisoned mouse, of the bug crashed in the windshield, of the prey taken down by the hunter, of the plant that was watered too much, of the elephant fed with fire, of the cultivated plants, of the animals transformed into food.

Without judging, it takes the souls of the poor man murdered by the cop blinded by power, of the woman that without guilt was killed for him who thought was dominant, the boy that followed the man for the offered toy or candy, of the girl whose act of kindness and innocence was taken as a felony that cost her life. Of the man whose oppressed wife had to finally defend herself, of the woman that deceived young ones with promises and money, of the thief that stole from someone everything they had, of the one who poisoned others to get what she wanted.

Without guilt, nor grace, nor own choice it takes the soul of the young artist who with her stars brightened so many lives, but couldn’t beat her sickness; the loved and hardworking man whose life faded as a candlelight; of the young people that can’t understand what’s wrong with them, those who can’t find hope in tomorrow’s light and so, they gave up their soul with their own hands. Of those that without fault or reason, exposed themselves to the sickness that was killing so many; of those who left behind devastated and incomplete families, of those that are gone without asking for it and without fear.

Death take the souls of the ones that beg because they don’t want to see one more day, of the ones that cry for one more night; of the scared ones, of the fearless, of the poor, of the rich, of the ones that are alone and the ones that aren’t, of the corrupted and the purest, of those that didn’t know they had a soul, of the ones that wanted to save it. Of those who believe in a God, of the ones that believe in thousands, of those who don’t believe in any. Of those that study, of those that doesn’t know nothing, of the ones that think and the ones that don’t want to do it. Of those that believe in it and those who doesn’t.

Death is just, Death is sure, Death doesn’t rest.