Invictus: Part 1 - The struggle to be the architect of one's own destiny

My late mother, now gone six months already, owned a book entitled 'A Treasury of the World's Best Loved Poems'. Now as I engage in the final steps of clearing out her house, a week ago, I came upon this book. With a soft leather cover, it was published in 1961 by Avenel Books. She probably had this book for a large portion of her life. As I opened it, almost magically it stopped at one page. As I looked down upon this page, I read the name of a particular poem: 'Invictus', by William Ernest Henley. Was it a message for me during this, a very trying time for me?

 

'Invictus'

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 finde 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.

-- William Ernest Henley

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