Do not go gentle into that good night. A poem by 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.

I've never been all that 'into' poetry with the major exception of Kubla Khan by Coleridge, which I have hanging on my bedroom wall. For some reason, however, this poem has come to mind this morning. Its about death and not quietly dieing.

For me, this morning, and the way I'm feeling, this poem speaks about not bending to other's will. Of being strong enough to stand, no matter what gets thrown at me. I freely admit I'm not a perfect person, I have my faults, but so does everyone else. I refuse to 'fuck off and die' just because someone else tells me to.

Sorry to disappoint :)