Rage

I discovered this poem in the book Matched by Ally Condie. (When I later read Hunger Games, the two series seemed similar to me.) Anyway, some of the lines from this jump to my mind now and then. 

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night by Dylan Thomas:

"Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at the 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." 

In the book there was a deeper political significance to the poem, but when I read it, I'm inspired to...hmmm, how to describe it?

To grapple with life--to shape it and let it shape me in good ways. To not be complacent with letting life pass by.

I work with people who are getting up there in years. Most common frustration? Not being able to do things anymore. So I'm gonna take advantage now of being able to do...everything! And keep on doing everything til I can't no mo'!
:)