Never The Night Poem by PJ. Moon

Have you heard to 'not go gentle into the good night'?
Yet how else might I go into that befogged plight?
Have you heard to 'rage, rage against the dying of the light'?
But what rage am I to afford against the mastodon of that approaching good night?

That good night foretold in ancient graphs, hence scores of funerals unfolding;
how dying of the light cannot be kept, for decaying winds overtake.
The good day, however, once gently arrived, a merciful reprieve from smoldering fright
of ignorance, of only near sight, blindly towards rosy terrestrial light and never the night.

Gentle or otherwise, look into that foreboding night,
for darkening sight is the advised empty rage against an intractable servant of light.
Gasp, sigh and look into that foreboding night,
that levels one's fictitious pages of slight
and ignorance, of only near sight, gaily towards the tremulous morrow yet never the night.

Thus, amid the dying of the light, so ask:
How else might I go into that befogged plight?
Strive for a gracious dusk, where frights and plights can dim and there be cast
a menacing shadow upon that once foreboding approaching night.

(7/5/12)