do not got gentle into that good night, old age should burn and rage 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 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.
-dylan thomas
An Attitude toward existence --
do not got gentle into that good night, 
It's raining (I stand staring at the umbrella you hold strong grasped in your grips and long to be close enough that you would hold me so long in your grasp so strong because the space between us is misplaced yet fragile for I could shatter the echo of your whisper with the bat of my eyes I stay still exposed to the dripping wet because I need to know that what you see in the rain and in the moonlight is not what I imagined for only then will I know that when you kiss me it is real) Do you love me or the rain?
All the stitches are in place, now I get to watercolor! Can you tell what it's going to be...?
