Friday, 26 July 2013

poetic fragments op. 38

A road, not me

Robert Frost sang with a sigh,
“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I -
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.”

I’ve never been willing to
Take a road unlike him.
I’ve been always taken by a road
Which was not radiant in the least
But was under a bright evil star.
I have no regret paradoxically.

Taking or not taking a road
never has made me what I am.
From beginning to end,
There was not “me” but “a road.”

The road was
Grassy and in leaves.
It was both summer and winter.

Two roads diverged in a wood.

No comments: