Where the Roads Diverged

I found this poem by Robert Frost online. Sometimes we hear the first few lines and don't take the time to read its entirety.


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


I find it interesting that while he chose the less traveled path, he marked the other in his mind for a future adventure. Yet, he admits he doubted he'd make it back that way again.

So true of life as we know it. I begin to wonder if we do get that chance in another life, a reincarnation of self.
How many times we feel we've been here, or near here before? A deep instinct tells us which way to go. Sometimes we listen, sometimes not.

We meet kindred spirits along the way, some who also chose the path less traveled. Sort of reminds me of Pilgrims Progress, the mythical journey of a soul towards heaven.

It is good that some don't fear that path less trod, or if they fear, they go anyways.