Forked lightning, sun in flight

It is Fathers Day today. I have written about Fathers the last two days for sure. Actually it is a theme that comes up often.

"What of my own thoughts? What words might offer some lightning insight. What thoughts burn on each day. Which are right. Tears more fierce now. To late to grieve. Was my sight blinding, have my thoughts been in flight. And then what of the night. Deeds frail, but good men, who were bright. Raging against the light. Reaching into the light. Never gently into the good night".

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A Fathers Day Book called "Men of Valor", the powerful impact of a Righteous Man" caught my attention this morning. It speaks on the cover of a time for men of purpose and of purity. It suggests that good men make a difference. It offers the words of a song on the first page.............

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Rise up, O men of God!

Have done with lessor things.

give heart and soul and mind and strength

To serve the King of Kings.

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Rise up O men of God!

In one united throng

Bring in the day of brotherhood

And end the night of wrong

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Rise up, O men of God!

Tread where his feet have trod

As brother of the Son of Man,

Rise up, O men of God!

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I like these thoughts. It seems to answer in some ways the questions of another favorite poem.

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Do not go gentle into that good night
By Dylan Thomas

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Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

And learn, too late, they grieve it on its way,

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,

Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.