Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Early on a Frost-y mornin’, look away...
We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time. --T. S. Eliot
You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.
The Roads Taken
by Robert Henry Brague, 1/26/2010
Three roads triverged in a mottled wood,
And I took all three, one at a time, because
Each one doubled back on itself, and at last
I found myself alone in the clearing,
Wond’ring how that happened, wond’ring what I
Had got myself into exactly, some sort of game
Apparently, from which there is no exit,
Just more of the same, ever more and more of
The same, over and over, ad infinitum.
“Ah, said my brain, “so this is how it is,
Thinking one is making progress, moving
along nicely, only to discover at end of day
That one is back at the starting point.
If ever I manage to extricate myself from
This labyrinthine maze I will never return.”
Someone will be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Three roads triverged in a wood, and I --
I took them all ’neath the puzzled sky,
And that has made not one whit of difference.