Today the “boy who cried wolf” told me im always playing safe. I always get eaten up by time or blinds. I never take risks, its either check or fold, no bets unless i feel good about my cards.
I guess that’s life.
341 After great pain, a formal feeling comes—
The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs—
The stiff Heart questions was it He, that bore,
And Yesterday, or Centuries before?
The Feet, mechanical, go round—
Of Ground, or Air, or Ought—
A Wooden way
Regardless grown,
A Quartz contentment, like a stone—
This is the Hour of Lead—
Remembered, if outlived,
As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow—
First—Chill—then Stupor—then the letting go—
Online text © 1998-2009 Poetry X. All rights reserved.
From The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson | Written c. 1862
“Everything you want is out there waiting for you to ask. Everything you want also wants you. But you have to take action to get it.” - Jules Renard