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.
Mr. Dylan Thomas I beg to differ today.
Sometimes soft words whisper “good night”.
Sometimes a gentle kiss releases a soul.
Sometimes waves crash against hot concrete sizzling into vapor.
Sometimes mist lifts embracing the dying light.
Sometimes frail deeds dance quietly into the dark night.
sometimes there is no rage here.