Night

I, like many a human before me, am fascinated by the night.

I don't know why, but I'm easily transfixed by a clear night sky.


I was thinking about this love for the night when I came upon a great poem, which then reminded me of a great song. It's a pretty popular poem, but for me it was like going through a chest in the attic and being gratified by sudden elation which is then suddenly washed away by the ever stronger current that is melancholy. I hope you enjoy it, be it your first or fifth reading:


Do Not Go Gently 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 grieve 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.

And for the song, it's something I would listen to on drives home in the fall or winter at night, maybe after dropping friends off at home and I was alone in the car.

It also reminds me of one time during a drive down to the beach at night, I was with my friends Justin and Jordan, and the song came on. It was one of those moments where you felt you were looking into the rest of your life, and you think about each and every passing second as hard as you can so as not to let go of it and in doing so, you burn that seven minutes into your memory.

Here that is: