Do not go gentle into that good night...

January 5, 2017

 

It's been a hard day.  The loss of young lives is always devastating. I look out my window at my little village and know that this day will have changed it.

 

My eyes are drawn to the twinkle lights we have strung about the yard and find a sliver of solace.

 

What is it about twinkle lights? They are most likely made in China, they "waste" energy, they are made of plastic; one of the worst polluters, they smell of consumerism... Yet, they are wrapped and laid carefully in the very soft spot of my heart where I keep tender bits of magic.

 

 

They always remind me of the Dylan Thomas poem.

 

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.

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