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.
Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog, Caspar David Freidrich, 1818.
Thoughts
The title of this poem is Latin for "unconquered." Even in the most challenging of circumstances, the human spirit has proven to be resilient beyond compare.
The speaker clearly is wrestling with the powers of fate versus free will
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