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 punishment the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.
– William Ernest Henley
I recently read a book which included a line of this poem. "I thank whatever gods may be for my unconquerable soul." It had spoken to me so much, I wrote it down in my notes app on my phone. I had forgotten about it for a while after that, until I rediscovered it today. I decided to Google it and found the full poem.
It sounds hopeful to me, and it's just what I need at the moment.
Love, Faith
