<photo: sunset at Mount Rinjani>
<photo: sunset at Mount Kinabalu>
<photo: sunset at the Himalayas>
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 grieve 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 (poet, 1914 – 1953)
("Dylan connects all men together--wise men, good men, wild men--by writing that they all will face death. When they do, he urges them to fight--"rage"--for more life, rather than gracefully slipping into darkness. No matter what these men have done with their life, good or bad, they shouldn't give up the struggle for more.")