This quarter saw a number of known personalities pass away-- the King of Pop, Charlie's angel, the saint of People Power (according to TIME), and, recently, the Johnny who wooed Baby to dance. It saw the loss of a dear friend's father and brought back the memory of my own mother's passing, encapsulated by a reflection on my own mortality.
I will be honest. Death, the emblem of inevitable uncertainty, is one I fear the most. Teasing or coaxing Death never cross my mind lest he falls for it. In the darkness of my thoughts, I stand defiant. I will not die. I cannot die. Not. Just. Yet.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
But. When Death insists, he persists. What's a mere mortal to do but let go? When my time comes, though, I hope he finds me worthy.
| Do not go gentle into that good night | ||
| by Dylan Thomas (1914-1953) | ||
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.
