One of my favorite poems.

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.

-Dylan Thomas

Listen to it here

Untitled

My weariness is a burden,
And my smile is old and faded.
The contour of my heart hides my trust within my soul.
And there is nothing for me but to leave.
Don’t let me walk away from this,
Don’t let me turn my back on your face.
When faith no longer leads me,
And this race has forgotten,
Please be my refuge.
Oh, sweet refuge.

I carry in my body a secret life I long for.
I journey as a pilgrim looking for the never lands.
I search inside and out, longing for a quiet desire.
When fate has turned me over,
And life has left me bleeding, I do what I have to do.
When faith no longer leads me,
This race has forgotten,
And demons point and stare,
Oh, be my sweet refuge.
Sweet refuge.
I did what I had to do.

The storms are quaking and my shelter is blown away.
I think I know I’m empty handed, But I’m holding on to splitting seams.
You never left me burning,
You always kept me hoping.
I did what I had to do.
I had the sense to recognize that this is too far over my head,
But far beneath my reach.
Your faith is ever dying,
Your eyes are ever weeping, I do what I have to do.
Don’t let me walk away from this,
Don’t let me turn my back on your face.
When faith no longer leads me, And this race has forgotten,
Please be my refuge.
Oh, sweet refuge.

When mountains are caving,
And hills burning with envy.
When the sky begins to sing,
And the sea starts bleeding,
I’ll do what I have to do.

This quest is set before me,
I’ll do what I have to do.
I subside in what is holy,
I did what I had to do.
Oh, sweet refuge.
I did what I had to do…

Das Schweigen (Silence)

[Artist: Johann Heinrich Füssli]

"Sitting silently,

doing nothing,

the spring comes

and the grass grows

by itself."