Rage, Rage


It's the procession of the lights before the dying sun
That triggers thoughts of fearless fights
Of rage against the dying light,
As I drive gently into the night.

The slow parade along the narrow road,
Besides an ocean roaring in delight,
I marvel at God's handiwork,
As I drive gently into the night.

My mind is busy with gritty thoughts,
Toiling for that particular insight
To solve life's mysterious work,
As I drive gently into the night.

My sight encounters the setting light,
Its pastel sweetness and restless plight,
I feel a slow, extended feeling of delight,
As I drive gently into the night.

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