January 26, 2021

Spotter Up

In Depth Tactical Solutions

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

4 min read

original“Cry Havoc, and let slip the dogs of war” William Shakespeare

Since the beginning of time, humans have been unremitting in every imaginable pursuit. We fought back against wild beasts and uncontainable nature in pursuit of knowledge. We hurtled across vast expanses of ocean and earth to penetrate deeper into her unknown. Our imaginings helped us move mountains of dirt and forest to build shiny cities on the hills. We followed our heartfelt spirit of adventure to gather experience and in doing so created technologies to push us up from our mud-heaps and carried us in our metal chariots into the sky; we learned to fly and breached black, cold night. The bright stars were our destination. We were relentless…

At the heart of every human can be discovered the spirit of wonder. Simply put, we were built to explore, but in this new day and age we have retreated further into the ignorance of our mind. Some of us hide among shallow places and now fear to explore. Not all of us have changed but some have forgotten what it’s like to fight harder or stand stronger after every major ass-whoopin’.

Our old ability to harness the strength of our heart, body and mind, like the Spartans of old, which once fused a strong society together has been weakened from within by intellectual doubters that tell us we were never great. Bobble-headed buffoons have invaded the land of the warrior-philosophers and told everyone that we are equal with others, that we are no different than the rest of the world.

This world, our world is being retooled by second-hand mechanics who are merely observers in a world of doers. We have woken up to a New World of pin-heads and poppycock. We cannot finish the work that must be done. The hounds have been put on leashes and cannot remove the wild, evil of this world. No more cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war.

Revisionists are creating history in their own distorted image. Wisdom gleaned from a million dreams and a millennia of warfare is ignored; the gut-check for some of us is gone. Some of the stupidest leadership has eroded the confidence of millions. Here, one man’s weird resolve, commitment, and odd priorities, has taken this nation on a bizarre course and where we end up is anyone’s guess.

What is the goal of this nation if it is no different from any other? We once were leaders of the free-world. Where are our goals, what is our war, do we still possess the spark that once hurtled us into action?

Pencil-necked academics tell us what victory is or is not. They tell us to accept what winning a war means on political terms rather than what makes sense. Even terrorists have goals and pursue them until death and yet our hands are tied with talk of gun control and the softening of our military. Simply, if you see an enemy you kill him. Bad leadership has snuffed out a thousand, shining lights with their insufferable ideologies.

Don’t be alarmed. There are pockets of heroes in this world even if control of the ship is run by fools and folly. Do not give up. Do not quit. There are thousands of heroes among us in every city from here to Baghdad. If you are asleep, wake up. Set your life on fire again and seek out those brothers and sisters who feel the same.

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 that 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. 

Dylan Thomas

Originally written and posted Dec 18, 2015 

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