On the Road

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…

I shall be telling this with a sigh

somewhere ages and ages hench:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I -

I took the one less travelled by,

and that has made all the diference.

There was never any more inception than there is,

Nor any more youth or age than there is now,

And will never be any more perfection than there is now,

Not any more heaven or hell than there is now.