Life is wrought with adversities
many of manageable proportions-
one plows through, and is left relatively unscathed.
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)