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.
We did read this in class last year.
But it means so much more when you don’t just GET the idea
They read this at a friends memorial two days ago
And I just don’t get how it changes THAT MUCH about how you see the world. BUT IT DOES.
Death is inevitable, so why does it cause so much pain?
For Death is Death itself, as long as you’re still alive.
If you don’t get that you don’t get it yet. And I’m just a child but it just baffles me that I was missing (or maybe I just had a piece and lost it) a piece of life for the majority of the life I’ve lived. And that what I’ve experienced is far from the worst of it.
Sleep comes later, for now, my brain is keeping me awake.
