Gambling Life Poem by Simon Gwynn

Here is a man
who doubts his hand.
Though he was quick to sit down
when the game called,
he will sit indecisive
whatever befalls.

This is a man
who clings to his cards,
becomes trapped in his own defence.
He will lose them all before he finds
a common experience.

Here is a man who would bend his will
to any course or strategy,
questioning still.
But now he cries aloud -
'I know no-one in this crowd.'

Behold the man
concealed his hand
to find himself alone.
Six empty chairs round the dice table,
six numbers on the bone.

This was a man
drawn close to the table -
fate would fall at his command.
But now the cards impassively
have disappeared from his hand.