Its there. <br />So close you can almost <br />touch it. <br />You can smell it and almost <br />taste it. <br />But your hands are bound <br />behind your back, at your own request. <br />Your fear is disguised as confidence, <br />like a wolf in sheep’s clothing it is dressed. <br />It is there before you, <br />staring you down, and <br />salivating in anticipation. <br />Your chance. <br />Why does it become so hard to <br />reach out and grab it with both hands, <br />when it is the thing you want most in your life? <br />It is not because your hands are manacled, <br />for the manacles are wrought from the strongest <br />fresh air your imagination can find. <br />It is not because you’re weak, for you are not. <br />You could break those that bind your hands effortlessly, <br />regardless of their strength, for they are made <br />by the very hands they bind. <br />It is because you are scared. <br />Scared of rejection, and failure. <br />You’ve thought about it too much, <br />and now you’re stopping yourself. <br />In order to protect yourself. <br />But you need to push yourself <br />to cross those sharply defined boundaries <br />by yourself. For otherwise <br />you’ll never have what you won’t allow yourself.<br /><br />Dan Brown<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/you-ll-never-have-what-you-won-t-allow-yourself/
