Someone so dear to me shared this poem with me when I was having a rough IC day last year. While the immediate focus of the writing is death, I think it applies to so much more and on so many levels. Reminding us to fight and never give up. So rage against the dying of your light. Whatever that may be for you. X, A!
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.
- Dylan Thomas
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