He walks a road,
looking for truth
when he finds himself,
lost and cold.
He turns to the one thing he lost
"my love,
are you there?
Can you hear me?"
Silence is all he heard.
He goes down to his knees,
he began to sob,
cries louder than the screams
of lost souls.
Slowly he fell in to the silence
and became a part of it

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.