the trouble with the robert frost
“two roads diverged…” encyclical
is that the two roads are just two.
in real life, it’s so complex:
the crossroads is a dandelion
of three dimensions, maybe more.
some circumstances force a move.
some preferences are imposed.
and fear, that strongarm bully, steals
the will from making wisdom count.
at times a traveler suggests
just with a smile: it’s time to go.
each breath inhaled is choosing life.
each kiss exchanged is choosing love.
each journey says a better place
awaits. but journeys may play false,
with distance that no yardstick tells.
the real journey’s in our heads,
in touching soul-to-soul; in goals
we keep, or not; in choosing words;
in scratching itches till they bleed
then learning that they’re best ignored;
and letting go begins a trek
along a path that must astound.