4.21.06, Title Track, Sans Explication

The poem providing the title to this blog, but with no analysis, why's or wherefore's at this point....

“DO NOT GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT”

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.
(1952)

And this final observation wasn't intended to be morbid but I just learned, pulling a quick copy of the poem off the web, that Dylan Thomas died at the age of 39, something I did not know when I decided the refrain from his poem would have to be my watchphrase now, another piece of uncanniness, sick luck, some strange confluence. It vibes me out.