![]() ![]() ![]() "Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,Īnd learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, We can spit in its face and struggle for every last heartbeat. We cannot conquer death, but that doesn’t mean we have to go gentle into that final goodnight. It is a bold statement that suggests, although the inevitable is coming, we don’t necessarily have to embrace it with open arms. The poem, in a sense, is a rage against this. The poem is also a shout, an angry outburst against the injustice of life. Rage, rage against the dying of the light." Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, ![]() Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright "Though wise men at their end know dark is right,īecause their words had forked no lightning they We must always stand against injustice and, in essence, become the light itself to insure hope never fades. The first is our own light and mortality. ![]() When death is upon us, stay strong and fight as the light fades.Īnd I see two forms of light dying here. Do not go gentle, do not go easy, do not give up, fight until the very end. Isn’t it so powerful and inspiring? Can you not feel the power of the message? It’s a simple one, one we should all heed. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Old age should burn and rave at close of day ![]()
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May 2023
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