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; 5

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, 10

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back. 15

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. 20

Robert Frost (1874–1963). 

the turning of a page

Let loose these feelings of dereliction. Put away that which is crushed. The earth renews itself. The moon is born again. An end is merely another beginning. Every morning is different. The story lines never cross. The plots are all ever-changing. The morals number beyond count. There is something new in everything. And everything new in somethings. The old is what is past. What has long gone will be forgotten. The pages of a book will wither. A memory never stays. There will be a new tomorrow. A light shining anew. A vision that breathes new life. A song that fills the soul. The grasses are bright and shiny. The shore fresh and cool. Drink the water that replenishes. Tastes the sweet summer berries. And be born again, renewed.

Notsnhoj