If anyone would ask, "how would it feel like to decide on something that is totally unpopular, one that will surely put myself on the stake, one that will humiliate and make me turn down in shame, one that will not have any easy answers to, one that grant me scorn and creepy looks, one that will strip me off my circle of friends, one that will make me feel alienated and painfully lonely, one that will guarantee nights of swollen eyebags?"
I would answer, "friend, it is not just about the feeling of it, I went through it, and lived through it,.. it all began with a single decision, and though I knew of the consequences (and in fact still living through some of it) I could not imagine a life had that single decision not been done. Unpopularity? Hardship? Sometimes Life only ask for so much, but never our Dignity".
I would answer, "friend, it is not just about the feeling of it, I went through it, and lived through it,.. it all began with a single decision, and though I knew of the consequences (and in fact still living through some of it) I could not imagine a life had that single decision not been done. Unpopularity? Hardship? Sometimes Life only ask for so much, but never our Dignity".
The Road Not Taken (Robert Frost)
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;
Though as for that the 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.
1 comment:
aye my friend, aye.
what can I say but that dreamers would lead their own paths ,unbeknownst to others , who might pour scorn and lay guilt.
But dreamers are as dreamers were ... there is no turning back .. not even if we forget.
FOR it is ingrained within us .
And quiet joy , the addictive sweet sound of it, would beckon us to return to the fold should we ever be lost . Continue dreaming, my friend for there are too many differences to be made and far too few people to do it.
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