mschannon
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mschannon
DO NOT GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT, Dylan Thomas 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. -------------- Yet where comes peace, solitude, contentment, wisdom -- all those wondrous gifts of age. Can I rage against the dying of the light and still sit quietly and just see a rock or a bird or a flower? Can I refuse to go gentle into that good night, yet accept my fate with dignity, humanity, and humor? I cannot yet reconcile the two. That is my task now that my hectic days are almost over. Can one be a curmudgeon, sarcastic Buddhist?(LOL) I want both. I want lifes wildest waves crashing all around me as I sit and look at a small rock tossed among the tides. I don't think that's allowed. I'm not sure God has the bandwidth.
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