The Road Taken...

"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both...

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference."

Robert Frost, in his poem The Road Not Taken, describes the choice between two roads, since one cannot take both.

The light guides the choice with all the reasoning applied, but no one warns you about the journey that it is going to be. Sometimes, the road just leads you to another one, and then to the next one. The beautiful yet short lawns alongside turn into bushes, and then forests.

The companions—those who watch you, those who hold your hand and support you along the way—all fade away as you catch speed. They are left behind, and worse, you don't get to, or cannot afford to, wait for them to catch up. As you run faster and faster, trying to balance on both feet amidst the dense forest, with only a vague imagination of the goal and no time to pause, you realise somewhere along the way that you are left alone. That you have no one in sight. That you can't see either end of the road taken. That you are unsure of the path, and the goal itself.

In this vacuum, all you have is yourself and a fire burning inside that keeps you warm, urging you to keep running faster and faster, no matter when, or whether, you will reach the destination.