ila

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 grieve 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

"A great big bang and dinosaurs
          Fiery raining meteors
          It all ends unfortunately
          
          But you're gonna live forever in me
          I guarantee, just wait and see
          
          Parts of me were made by you
          And planets keep their distance too
          The moon's got a grip on the sea
          
          And you're gonna live forever in me
          I guarantee, it's your destiny"

   thank you so much for the follow ♥️
          all the love. 

Old friend now there is no one alive
          
          who remembers when you were young
          
          it was high summer when I first saw you
          
          in the blaze of day most of my life ago
          
          with the dry grass whispering in your shade
          
          and already you had lived through wars
          
          and echoes of wars around your silence
          
          through days of parting and seasons of absence
          
          with the house emptying as the years went their way
          
          until it was home to bats and swallows
          
          and still when spring climbed toward summer
          
          you opened once more the curled sleeping fingers
          
          of newborn leaves as though nothing had happened
          
          you and the seasons spoke the same language
          
          and all these years I have looked through your limbs
          
          to the river below and the roofs and the night
          
          and you were the way I saw the world
          

Love you!!!!