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.
This poem by William Ernest Henley is so inspiring, especially considering that he wrote it while in the hospital with a very serious illness. It reminds me of my father, who was a very strong, moral person, but not religious. In his words, he was "not a joiner". It is an amazing representation of where many of us find ourselves on this side of the cult experience, finally the master of our own fate. Thank you for posting this, Richard M.