The Road Less Traveled – Redux

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood and I—I took the one less traveled by.  It was fine for a while.  Then the underbrush started to close in.  After a while there was so much underbrush that I began to think maybe I wasn’t on a road anymore.  To tell the truth it didn’t even seem to be a path.  Briars were pulling and poking at me.  Whippy little branches were slapping my face.  Bugs started to bite and I think I must have walked into every spider web in that damned yellow wood.  Finally the brush was so thick I couldn’t see more than a foot ahead.  That’s when I fell off of the cliff.  Now I sit at the bottom of a shallow gorge.  I’m bruised and my ankle is twisted.  On the plus side there is less underbrush obscuring everything.  I can see where I want to be.  It’s in sight.  Unfortunately, to get there, it looks like I’ll have to swim at least two rivers and scale a forty-foot rock wall.  No choice at this point really though.  I wonder what the other road would have been like.  This one has certainly made all the difference.

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