Shores of White

Should I care, or should I let all 
Float on by, down the streams of fancy
The shores they call, pearly white
Bits of fluff, cotton grains where they fall
And should I care, or should I stall
Let fall these pages, these papyrus palls
Stained with mucus, letters, ink, breaths
Bleeding one into the next, crimson
Streams from these hands, down
To the crooks of the elbow, where
The skin folds, the creases drying
Muddy red rivers bearing away
The hopes, the seeds are dying
No tomorrow will they see, no
Newborn leaf paled by moonlight's caress, no
Weathered stalk bending to greet sun rays, no
Tomorrow, shall I see?  Shall I see no, shall I see
Pretty white pebbles to guide the way
To shores of white, to unbeholden land
To the meeting of sun and moon, night and day
To where there is no tomorrow, no further, no delay
Where red blood drains into white sands
And all is washed away