This page is a permanent link to the reply below and its nested replies. See all post replies »
Faust76 · 46-50, M
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.
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.
@Faust76 That’s my poem that gets me through my hard days. I have it where I sleep, on my bathroom mirror, and in my pocket. Sometimes I have to read it multiple times a day. To remember to rage.