It’s strange the way things work out. Up until a few weeks ago, there was one poem that I had carried with me since my teenagehood, which I’ve blogged about several times. And with the place I was in uptil last year, its significance was magnified. Nonetheless, it brought me to the other side. This poem I’m speaking about is Rabindranath Tagore’s ‘Where The Midnd Is Without Fear’.
Funnily enough, a poem that had actually entered my life last year in the form of a poster, cropped up during a job interview, or while inspiring myself for it rather. It was just the last few lines that came to mind, but it was enough to get me stoked. After reaching home, I decided to take the poster out of the cupboard where it had been lying for the last year or more, and put it up. This poem which now has a special place in my heart, is ‘Invictus’ by William Ernest Henley.
Since I have put down Tagore’s poem several times, to remind myself of its potence, I am going to reproduce in my blog for the first time, ‘Invictus’, to invoke its gravitas.
Invictus by William Ernest Henley
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.