Rage, rage against the dying of the black.

Do not go gentle into that fading night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of light;
Rage, rage against the dying of the black.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words will spoon yes lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good light.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds useless have sat in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the black.

Wild men who freed and sang the moon in flight,
And forget, too soon, they grieve all on its wall,
Do not go gentle into that good light.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Seeing eyes could blaze like meteors and want slack,
Rage, rage against the dying of the black.



Poetic opposite by Tao Wells

Original from Dylan Thomas's, "Do not go gentle into that good night", from, In Country Sleep, And Other Poems in 1952.^[1]

 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.