March 2, 2010
Such an amazing experience just now at the writing center -- a student came in to discuss a paper on Dylan Thomas' poem, "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night" -- which Daddy & I discussed so many times (especially right after grandma's death ) -- just now on the anniversary of Daddy's death. The student was a sweet, tall, gangly handsome Albanian boy -- my messenger angel. Thank you, Daddy.
Dylan Thomas
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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