The Cards Played

Freedom's razor thin.

Visited a friend.

He’s doing time.

Fifteen years. Two served. Thirteen left. Could’ve dodged it. Didn’t. Choices cut. He’s paying heavy.

Drove up. Morning sun climbed. Sky blue. Clouds streaked. Real nice out. Too nice.

Guard checked me. Friendly. Firm.

Name. ID. Rules. Searched.

Inside, air stank. Concrete. Sweat.

Visitation area stretched.

High school lunchroom. Plastic tables. Rows of them. Faded whites. He sat there. Blue drabs. Face sagged. Two years carved deep. Eyes sank. Loneliness hung.

We played poker.

Table scratched. Cards bent. He shuffled. Hands slow. Dealt the first. Jack. Ten. Weak. Folded. Drew. Lost. Life’s that.

Next hand.

Queen. Ace. Better. Still lost. He took it.

Third hand.

Trash. Kept it. Bluffed. Busted.

Visitors shuffled in.

Looked around. Old man with chess. Kid with pencils. Parents clutching hands.

Coffee steamed in cheap cups.

All waiting. All sentenced.

We’re all criminals. Laws unwritten.

Guards watched. Friendly faces. Sharp eyes. One leaned. One paced.

Time dragged. Poker kept going.

Food came. Microwavable slop. Expensive. Bad. Rubbery meat. Stale buns. Passed on it. Went hungry. Sipped water. Tasted flat.

Bathroom break hit.

Had to go. Guard searched me. Every time. Coming out. Hands up. Pockets out. Humiliating.

Sat back down. Dealt again.

King high. Folded fast. He won. Slim edge. Luck’s a lie.

Thought about it…

Life deals.

No mercy. No swaps. Some cards rot. Some shine. Play them anyway. Some hide. Clutch their hand. Skip the game. Cage themselves. Fear locks it tight. Others overstack. Pile high. Cash. Power. Ease. Golden cuffs snap shut.

Freedom bends. Breaks. Stoics saw it clear.

Epictetus wrote: “You have power over your mind—not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength.”

Mind’s free. Bars don’t touch it.

Marcus Aurelius said: “You have power over your mind—not outside events. Realise this, and you will find strength.”

Walls hold him. Not his soul.

He’s in. Still shuffles.

I’m out. Still chained.

Later, we walked.

Yard sprawled.

Dirt worn thin. Sky stayed blue. Clouds drifted. Air crisp. Same air. Different worlds. I’d leave. He wouldn’t. Steps hit. His heavier. Blue drabs shifted.

Fence rose. Steel gleamed cold. Stopped there. Watched sky stretch. Freedom’s a ghost.

I’d drive off.

Cross lines. Passports. Visas. Stamps. Permission to move. Borders cage quiet.

He’s got steel. I’ve got rules. Thought stabbed.

Free to roam. Am I free? What drags? Ambition? Comfort? Bars I built. Invisible. Solid.

He kicked dirt.

Open’s out there. Vast. But locked. Papers. Fees.

Work. Earn. Pay again.

Taxation’s the cut. Sweat for it. Hand it over. Half gone. More rules. Unfair. Always was.

DOGE peeled it back. Fraud. Waste. Abuse. Billions burned. Bridges to nowhere. Stings worse now. Knowing.

Sovereignty’s a blade.

Austrians sharpened it.

Mises wrote: “The only true freedom is in the individual’s ability to act according to his own decisions.”

Choice is yours. Pay the toll.

Fold, and you’re owned.

Hayek said: “Liberty does not mean omnipotence or freedom from all restraints; it means freedom to choose within the limits imposed by nature and the choices of others.”

He misplayed. Cards dropped. Years piled. Walls claimed him.

Stayed long. Morning bled to noon.

Sun climbed. Shadows shrank. Poker faded. Hands stopped. Guards shifted. Still firm. Bathroom again. Another search.

Hands up. Dignity down.

Sat again.

Watched him. Blue drabs. Thin frame. Two years in. Thirteen ahead. Walked back. Guards nodded. Gate clanged.

Drove off. Sky held blue. Road stretched long.

Mind churned.

Cards shuffled inside. Dealt a life. Played it.

Some wins. Some busts. Comfort’s a trap. House. Job. Debt. Golden threads. Soft cells. Society deals heavy.

Fat hands. Fat promises. Safety nets. Progress. Rules. Takes more. Always will. Taxes climb. Laws stack. Debt chains the next. Call it freedom. Feels like stone.

DOGE showed it.

Waste stacked high. Fraud in plain sight. Austrians saw it cold.

Mises again: “Government is the negation of liberty.”

Control spreads. Freedom shrinks.

Hayek wrote: “The more the state ‘plans,’ the more difficult planning becomes for the individual.”

Sovereignty’s yours.

Grip it. Play sharp. Win small.

He’s in steel. Two years gone. I’m in air. Still wrestling. Both shuffle. Both draw. Game never quits.

Drove home.

Long haul. Night crept in. Road faded black. Thought of him. Dealing in there. Thirteen left. Gray walls. Cold bunk. Thought of me. Dealing out here. Endless hand. Desk. Taxes. Clock ticks.

Epictetus whispers mentally.

“You have power over your mind—not outside events.”

Want less. Stand taller.

Think of Mises’s demand.

“The only true freedom is in the individual’s ability to act according to his own decisions.”

Own it. Or sink.

Dark fell. Cards stayed.

Freedom’s a razor. Sharp. Thin. Cuts both ways.

Are we playing, or being played?

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Rare Passenger / block height 885 117