Thank you Mr. Frost
So I read “The Road Not Taken” by Robert Frost for an uncountable amount of times. Taking the yield of every line to make sense of these electrically wired tethers.
I think a constant misinterpretation is that he could see no discernable discrepancy between the wear of those roads, in fact, he knew at least in the short term how the terrain might be moderately different;
And which feelings would be parallel, lining those dissimilar directions like streetlights. Some missing their bulbs along in unusual places, taking one experience from the other. Nevertheless entitled to a glimpse of the other path, at a light you may be forfeiting.
I often wonder if he did not regret writing the poem would he had pondered what to do at a four-way intersection next? Where those two choices from previous become jumbled into all other streets?
To a degree I'm partial to believe we all have a subtle problem dismissing the commonality in most connections in life; And how those earlier footsteps shape what you see ahead of you. Even what you glance at out the corner of your vision while you aren't paying attention. Resolute in my assumption we can all keep our senses on these highways.
The times have changed, the roads are looking modern; Distractions everywhere and asphalt is always getting hotter
Acknowledging the surrounding scenery, all the while not hasty to disregard your purpose is still your destination. That you can not trend on something in your peripheral.
Lest the lines become blurred from veering your head too quickly. Getting that impairing glimpse of the headlights, distorting what forward. Seemingly all roads into one another.
