Do not go gentle into that good night

Do not go gentle into that good night

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Dylan Thomas

On a macabre note, I might well have found the poem I should have read at my funeral. Now to look for one that's heck of a lot less depressing for my wedding =P

There's a poem for every moment in life. For every event. Every mundane errand. Every celebration. Every mourning. Isn't it amazing how we can relate to poetry that has been written by someone years and years ago in a different time, place and situation?

Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

cheers
*[-witchstone-]*

[music : Next to Normal OST]
[mood : sleepy]
[food : ONIGIRI!]