The second line of this poem popped into my mind last night and I couldn't remember the rest of it. I was sure it had something to do with a sailing ship -- I think my mind was confusing it with "The Wreck of the Hesperus". I couldn't get rid of the poem-worm until I'd looked it up this morning and recited the whole thing.

At one time "Invictus" spoke to me, inspired. Now, though, it seems to be merely an overdramatic statement of a commonplace fact.

We are all captains of our own souls, of course we are. That does not mean we are in complete control of our lives, though. Circumstances, luck, the decisions of others, the unforeseen consequences of our own decisions, they all arrange what happens to us. All we can control is how we react to what's thrown our way.

And, like any good captain, the privilege of choosing how to react is accompanied by the responsibility of taking good care of the vessel. Mine could use a good shake-down, I think.

On the other hand, it's a tenured position, granted for life. Not everybody is so lucky, eh?

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.