There is a time when one come across a word, a phrase, an idiom or a stanza from a song or a line from a movie and it strikes you. It inspires you. You want look at it again and again, even more so in times when things are not going your way; your wont to get reassured keeps happening. After moments, the train of thoughts takes you somewhere, you feel like eons has passed as you stare or listen to those words and you are taken in that it is not a word or a sentence anymore. It is a symbol.
I came across such a thing. "Thing" makes it sound so pedestrian. Bur it looked like a random "thing", innocuously printed out in a paper and stuck on a colleague's work desk. I started at it, I get lost, I realised it was a most beautiful poem. Ever. I don't read poetry nor deft in writing them. I do have any moral right to make such a judgement. But then I realise that I do because it is not a poem anymore- it has become an extension of myself.
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.
The poem "Invictus" was written by William Ernest Henely, as a demonstration of his resilience following the amputation of his foot due to tubercular infection,and it is now pinned innocuously in my work desk hoping that it will become an emblem of some one else's life.
I came across such a thing. "Thing" makes it sound so pedestrian. Bur it looked like a random "thing", innocuously printed out in a paper and stuck on a colleague's work desk. I started at it, I get lost, I realised it was a most beautiful poem. Ever. I don't read poetry nor deft in writing them. I do have any moral right to make such a judgement. But then I realise that I do because it is not a poem anymore- it has become an extension of myself.
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.
The poem "Invictus" was written by William Ernest Henely, as a demonstration of his resilience following the amputation of his foot due to tubercular infection,and it is now pinned innocuously in my work desk hoping that it will become an emblem of some one else's life.
No comments:
Post a Comment