When I read the poem “The Road Less Travelled” by Robert Frost, I actually believed he wrote it for me.
The last lines read, “Two roads diverged in a wood, and I – I took the one less traveled by, and that made all the difference.” On a cloudy day, you can’t see the mountaintop, literally and figuratively.
I came to the realization I had to keep climbing, until I got above the mist, for it was that journey into the unknown that finally made me see things more clearly, when I broke through that mist.
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