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.
by Dylan Thomas,[

I'm ethical, opinionated and come with high moral standards. An adventurer with a thirst for knowledge, fearless, outgoing, loving laughter, fun and life. I'm passionate about my stuff, bold, and educated. The best relationships are those built on a solid foundation of open communications and resiprosity. My values are family, my relationship with God, knowledge and the finer things in life. The arts, cycling and times at the gym are comforting. I'm anything but boring. I'm refreshingly honest yet, would never judge you.


A conservative Democrat living in the Republican farm belt, watching out for a framework of the US Constitution that guarantees equal rights to the entire diverse spectrum of its population.