Memento Mori

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Seattle, Washington, United States
Professional Darling

Sunday, August 1, 2010

Twilight, Starlight

Sometimes there are days when the despair overtakes me. Walking down Denny earlier this evening I felt this intense desire to throw myself into traffic. How does one overtake that feeling? How does one rage against it? Yet here I am, in my apartment, sitting on my bed, behind a laptop typing this. I'm sure I could get poetic, but I think Thomas said it best.



Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rage 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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