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Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Being a universal optimist, I don’t possess the mechanism to experience authentic misgivings, but for the sake of conversation, the thing I would regret if I could regret, would be all the times when I believed other people (prior to implementing a personal policy of rabid distrust). Putting my faith in parents, teachers, experts, authority figures and clergy would be my top source of remorse. As with everyone, I once lived in a state of total and complete abdication in which I outsourced all aspects of selfhood to others; some telling me what to think, some what to believe, some what to feel. Even my so-called knowledge was hand-me-down garbage. It was only later, from the perspective of knowing that everything in a hoax is a hoax; that I realized that no one knows anything, rather, that everyone is always wrong about everything while always thinking themselves right. That’s when I understood that the world of delusion is constructed not of ignorance, but of emotionally reinforced wrong-knowing.
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They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion.
Dylan Thomas (1914–1953) was a Welsh poet and writer, born in Swansea, Wales. Renowned for his vivid imagery and emotional intensity, he gained fame with works like Under Milk Wood, a radio play, and poems such as “Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night” and “Fern Hill.” His lyrical style, rich with metaphor and rhythm, often explored themes of life, death, and nature. Thomas led a tumultuous personal life, marked by heavy drinking and financial struggles, which contributed to his early death at 39 in New York City. Despite his short career, he remains a towering figure in 20th-century literature.
