The Road Not Taken
by Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference
One we all know, one we all read meaning into our own, individual lives: the paths we choose to take, the paths we choose to leave behind. If there were a means to live this one life in multiple ways in infinite parallels, what a life that would be instead of a crude existence of limits. But, there is a way, and it is only in relinquishing the self-imposed confinement that you can open yourself up to the myriad possibilities available.
Monarca Rising 