How sad to be the path less traveled
To wait and watch as wanderers pause
Standing at the divergence
Only to continue on as others have.
How terrible to be a voiceless tree
Standing rooted in a wood
Or swaying, tossed by a faceless breeze
unable to pass on my tale.
How lonely to seek out only the night
To walk in darkness only
Forsaking the warmth of morning’s glory
And living a half-shadowed life.
I will not take the path often traveled
But seek the one that is mossy and rough;
I will seek the voice of the trees
though I must learn to be silent to hear it;
I will not walk only in the darkness
But will make time to bask in the sun.
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