Per-Erik Störe (1959 -2019)
A good man died yesterday.
He was a friend and would have been 60 next week.
I first met him only 9 years ago but admired his mind, his energy, his initiative, his inspiration and his friendliness. I am privileged and glad and thankful to have had him as a friend.
Of course I know that globally some 150,000 others also died yesterday. And that some 350,000 babies were born yesterday. I understand Dylan Thomas that much better now, as the regret and sorrow that he will no longer touch and inspire those around him, turns into a kind of anger. And along with Dylan Thomas, I rage against the dying of another consciousness, where all Pelle experienced and remembered and had learned and knew is lost forever.
- 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 grieved 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.
But I am very thankful I knew him and I can call him a friend.
Tags: Pelle Störe
