Invicta
by The Walrus
Posted: 29 August 2004 Word Count: 105 Summary: Dedicated to my dear friend, Dr William Cruickshank, who died last November. He 'gave' me the poem this is based upon - 'Invictus' by William Ernest Henley - for which I am very thankful. |
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Out of the fog that blankets me,
treacle thick the moonless night,
I humbly thank the light of Chi
for the fire within me, burning bright.
From stinging slap of adversity,
my cheeks are burning, but I will not cry,
under the blows of calamity
my head is bloody, but still I defy.
Beyond this game of snakes and ladders,
lie broken bones and silent screams
and while phantoms lurk in daunting shadows,
they can take my gold, but not my dreams.
It matters not how long the road,
how tightly twisted the screws of pain,
Invicta I have always been,
Invicta, I shall remain.
treacle thick the moonless night,
I humbly thank the light of Chi
for the fire within me, burning bright.
From stinging slap of adversity,
my cheeks are burning, but I will not cry,
under the blows of calamity
my head is bloody, but still I defy.
Beyond this game of snakes and ladders,
lie broken bones and silent screams
and while phantoms lurk in daunting shadows,
they can take my gold, but not my dreams.
It matters not how long the road,
how tightly twisted the screws of pain,
Invicta I have always been,
Invicta, I shall remain.
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