All I know is a door into the dark Outside, old axes and iron hoops rusting; Inside, the hammered anvil’s short-pitched ring, The unpredictable fantail of sparks Or hiss when a new shoe toughens in water. The anvil must be somewhere in the center, Horned as a unicorn, at one end square, Set there immovable: an alter Where he expends himself in shape and music. Sometimes, leather-aproned, hairs in his nose, He leans out on the jamb, recalls a clatter Of hoofs where traffic is flashing in rows: Then grunts and goes in, with a slam and flick To beat real iron out, to work the bellows. Seamus Heaney
Two roads diverged in a 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 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.
Robert Frost (1874-1963)
As I sat last night after publishing the post yesterday I felt as if I did not finish what I had to say, so I shall continue today. This poem, since the first day I read it in high school, has always followed me, talked to me and led my life choices. It is a metaphor for so many things:
It has made me thoughtful of the choices of I have made, and to never regret the path I have chosen as it has led me to many wonderful friends, family and adventures that I cherish.