Don’t greet death gently.
Those dreary and greyed,
stay, hold, ignore
that feral, frail, reality.
Ignore gainsayers that say
those eternal days of flotage
on the edge of the great end,
dearly holding on,
are beyond their strength.
Death is the great design
for those that forgat
the indignity of being.
Linger on longer, oh ghost.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
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