Death

[Madame Adequate]

"Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night"

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.

I'm not afraid of something after death. I'm afraid because there is, as best logic and evidence tells me, nothing after death. I have no plans to die before I have done everything. Heard all the music, read all the books, seen all the plays, climbed all the mountains, walked all the roads, bathed in every star's light. This universe is so, so much vaster than could ever be understood by our minds. I do not want to die until I have seen all of it. I will not want to die when I have, most likely - there will be so many things to do again, to get better at and master, and all the while the countless multitudes of life will be spreading throughout, building new cities and new palaces and writing new stories.