On matters of poetry...

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.

And you, my father, there on 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.


These are two of the six parts of "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night" by Dylan Thomas. This poem has often been referred to as 'The Rage" poem, in fact that's how I found this work on the net. The line "wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight" best describes how Rick and I grabbed our youth. Good or bad, broke or flush, the experience was almost surreal and could never be repeated. Now comes this period of our life when we pull back the reins and attempt to seek answers about the future. We know the past, and the present is a strange place, knowing the old life is gone but the mind could scare the hell outta you in a heartbeat. The present is also strange because we've not done this! Every minute is new. We both have the wild imagination to dream about the future but 'this day' is new stuff for us. The future looks good over the horizon for the two of us but I can assure you, we will NOT go gentle into that good night!

Post script; I have no idea who the guy is in this photo, I just liked the picture.