Musings on the Road Not Taken

There is a certain kind of joy in traveling, especially traveling roads you’ve never traveled on before. A framed Robert Frost poem — The Road Not Taken — is a fixture in my grandmother’s house. Whether she mindlessly or intentionally placed that frame in her house, I don’t know. But one thing I do know — that poem has been my inspiration in the many things I do and the decisions I made in life. And I am pretty sure, that poem has also influenced the lives of my siblings and cousins.

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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 kept 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. 

Photos by Joel Lopez

Location: Bunzie’s Cove, Tabogon

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