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;
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.
We come to many crossroads in our lives. My hope is always that the road I choose, though it be not popular or well-traveled, is the road on which I find myself following closely after God. I am not a critic, and I do not know what Frost may have intended for this poem…. but it has always spoken deeply to me of the choices I have made, bringing me to this place in my life and taking me far from the destructive path on which I once walked. I hope to find you on this path one day as well.