The Road Not Taken

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 marked 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. 

Robert Frost

It is a poem referred to time and time again. I had to memorize it in middle school, and again in high school. But  tonight was one of those times where it rang with such clarity. Oh that first stanza! How I wish I could be in two places at once! To stand at the edge of decisiveness straining to catch a glimpse of what lies ahead. But there is no real knowledge, only hope that it will be a good trail that leads to a great destination. And unlike choose your own adventure books where I would try to place a bookmark at every turning point, and then go back to it after that trail ended to start down another path, we can never really go back to where we were exactly before. The path was grassy and wanted wear, so I took it.