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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.
Sitting this desk, letting my mind wander to so many wrong roads taken to all the time and love and energy wasted, to what lies ahead, to the night and the cold, remembering the sun on my face, the feeling of being cursed to never see it again, thinking aching wanting, hearing a lone coyote call was it in the night or in my mind as it echoes over the frozen ground wishing this damn chair was my old saddle, remembering a better time in my life a quieter time, when my bear slept, and now he consumes more of me daily till I fear naught will be left of me the next time he slumbers. My spirit has become tormented, and my balance almost completely gone, I wonder sometimes if I am not totally mad, I wonder if this nightmare will ever end, but like any animal I shake off the cold center my mind and continue on my trek of life, needing only food shelter and companionship, like any animal isn’t the last why all of us are ultimately here, for all other venues of connection have failed, and the night continues on as do my thoughts and my memories, and the ghost return to play in my mind. 3 more hours and I can go home and the sweet release of sleep, until the night another moon beckons me arise, I have become a dark thing a thing of darkness.
The madness grows more intense when it’s quiet
So I work in a cancer hospital and well anyone who works in one knows it can take up a lot of your life and you can become close to the folks you work with much like a combat unit, So this post is for a fallen comrade, a plucky ole gal, who not only worked in this cancer hospital but battled it quietly for years, until losing the battle one of the nurses I work with without a second thought said Marcy your comin home with me, lol not only did she take her home but they actually went on her dream cruise to the Bahamas together, and tonight Christmas eve at approximately 4 pm Mary Brown Marcie my friend and coworker and the dear friend of My dear friend Wendy, lost her fight with cancer but as my status says not before she gave each of us that knew her the chance to see and use the depths of our humanity and for that we owe her a debt of thanks
