I will go gentle I will not rage when life decides to turn the page a candle burns until it’s spent, then puddles away without dissent When my last act is that final breath that from these lips has gone and left this body, worn by time and age, will go gentle and will not rage when life decides to turn the page I leave behind such wisdom and truth as carried me here from first my youth I’m done with such notions that cannot be of any use in eternity As darkness follows light, as night follows day, I will go gentle I will not rage when life decides to turn the page Old men and wise, good men and wild, each may face the grave like a frightened child, but I will go gentle I will not rage when life decides to turn the page
I hereby acknowledge my debt to Dylan Thomas, whose ‘Do not go gentle into that good night,’ inspired this poem.
May I keep my wits about me sufficiently that I might guide my wandering mind toward the exit door with such grace. To some degree, with each passing day, life becomes more about this goal than any other. I speculate on just which notions might be of use in eternity, but no sense getting riled up about that. Whatever notions are useful will likely make themselves known at that time. In the meantime, I stay busy, like the speaker suggests, trying to unburden the obviously un-useful notions, of which there are a whole passel. Thanks as always for your peaceful provocations, Paul.
I agree, there's no need to rage against the dying of light. The final rest's darkness is quiet and beautiful.