The librarian

“Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close day;

Rage, rage, against the dying of the light.”

I often hear myself mumbling Dylan Thomas’ poem from 1951 when I wander down the graveyard late at night. At that time, most visitors have gone home, and I am left with a strange feeling of emptiness. The living bring the feeling of emptiness with them. To them, life is still a fact, and they treat the graveyard as a final resting place. Never could they have envisioned the vitality and strength that characterized the last breaths of those who now rest here at the graveyard. Every grave owner fought for their lives, and none of them went gently into the night. Every gravestone bears witness to that last battle, life against death. Continue reading