The Road Not Taken, Again

 The Road Not Taken, Again

Arman Rashid 

I stand where two paths meet once more,

the familiar weight of choice pressing down.

Leaves crunch beneath my uncertain feet,

and the wind carries whispers of past journeys.

The first road stretches straight and bright,

promising ease and known comforts.

I remember walking it before,

and the lessons it quietly taught me.

The second path twists into shadows,

hidden beneath trees that sway like questions.

I wonder what I might find there,

what I might lose or discover anew.

Time feels heavier in this quiet moment,

each heartbeat echoing like a drum.

I hear the echoes of steps I did not take,

paths abandoned, doors left unopened.

I take a breath, letting the air fill me,

and consider the courage I once lacked.

The road not taken before calls softly,

beckoning me toward the unknown.

I step forward slowly, feeling the earth,

each step a promise to myself.

The past follows quietly behind,

reminding me that choice is never easy.

The leaves fall around me like small blessings,

and the sky stretches wide, endless and patient.

I feel fear and hope mingle in my chest,

the weight of regret and possibility together.

Somewhere in the distance, a bird cries,

a song I cannot yet understand.

The road bends and disappears from sight,

and I walk, letting the unknown guide me.

And as I leave the crossroads behind,

I realize: sometimes the road chooses us as much as we choose it.