The Road

Two paths diverged, both worn by doubt, And hungry for a grace I couldn’t name. The well-worn one, a comfort, choked with shout, But where the other led, a whispering flame.

Perhaps a hope, a flicker yet unseen, A promise etched in every broken thing. I took the path less traveled,, cracked and green, For in the wild, perhaps, my soul could sing.

Though dense the woods, and shadows draped the way, Aching my knees, the light a distant dream, A stubborn faith, a stubborn will to say, “There must be more, a hidden, vibrant stream.”

And maybe there, where tangled branches meet, A clearing waits, bathed in a holy light. For even frost, a beauty bittersweet, Speaks of a love that burns through darkest night.