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Life is wrought with adversities

many of manageable proportions-

one plows through, and is left relatively unscathed.

A few-

sadly, wretchedly

are of the extreme, are atrocities

over which happiness at once seems ever unobtainable.

Yet,  that which brings sorrow, grief

need not permanently define-

if with every molecule of being

one strives to ‘invictus’-

to be unconquerable, unconquered

by that which seeks to destroy.


by William Ernest Henley (1849 – 1903)

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

(sourced from familyfriendspoems.com)