WHITE:

When you ask me what I regret about dying,

I´ll answer upon breath, of transparent sighing,

I regret, that I shall not see my hair turn white,

That white clouds in my eyes, will blight my sight.

 

I regret not seeing, the last snow´s iced glister,

Nor hear no more, the soft moon-moth´s whisper,

That the milk-pearl upon my neck, will die with me,

That I shall never see grow, the new planted tree.

 

I regret not my stumble, nor translucent pale skin,

Nor the loves I have had, nor the sins I have sinned,

As I reach now, for those mountain´s white peaks,

I know that I have found upon earth, all that I seek.

 

I´ll regret nothing, as I now walk back to my home,

It is just myself & my soul, merely us two alone,

Towards the white light shining & softly beckoning,

Confident that God will be just, in his reckoning.