A great poet once wrote of two roads
But never did I think
That I’d see them before me

Yet there they were,
Quiet in that yellow forest
Just as described so many years ago.

As I stood in front of them,
I wondered
What road would I travel by?

The road more worn
Would take less effort, and for once in my life
Provide an easy path

But if I chose the other road,
That one less traveled by,
I would surely gain the admiration of my peers.

I chose neither of them.
Instead, I turned toward an untouched part of that yellow forest
And begin to make my own road.
And that will make all the difference.