Variation on a Theme By Dylan Thomas

Your match burns to its very end.

Do not let the last length of wood smolder.

Let it blaze brightly,

consuming air like a famished child.

Do not go gently into the dying light.

That’s right. You heard me,

rage, rage against 

the withering of your muscles,

sapping of energy,

weakening of bones,

your starlight dimming.   

Find your final burst of energy like 

The Little Engine That Could.

Don’t you dare go gently into 

the dying of the light.

Go out with big bang.

glow dazzlingly like fire works

to claim the last of the dying light.