Emboldened in this fever dream,
I see it clearer than I’d hoped;
I’ve fallen prey to this hackneyed scene:
Two roads diverged upon a slope.
There is a third choice just behind me;
Unspoken that I will not go
To seek those riches that defined me;
Retrace my footsteps in the snow.
I consign myself to till the soil,
A prayer that I may be recused;
The earth unmoved by my turmoil–
All paths erode and I don’t choose.
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