standing at the cross roads: prompt for for Sunday, October 18.
carry on tuesday Keith
lives inside my head
for when he picks for us to “carry on”
a partial phrase to use in prose or fiction
it so often reflects my mood
that I feel like there is a doorway/a portal
between his thought patterns and my life
like the doorway on the shorten ceilings of floor 13 in Being John Malkovich
although I don’t end up inside someone else’s mind/body
the phrase from October 18 – from one of my favo(u)rite performers – Eric Clapton
“standing at the cross roads”
I could write prose (and I may still as I can envision the story)
continue this freefall, stream of (un)consciousness
or revert to one of my free verses (or even try an rhyme)
but, the phrase says it all; sums up my life so well
I’m a bit scared at how often carry on is my life
I am so much at the crossroads;
hoping for signposts, directional arrows, ads for life-changing/life-affirming ways to go
the tao of the crossroads; the first scary steps toward . . .
I am at that crossroad, and Robert Frost’s “The Road Not Taken” is echoing in my mind
(apologies to those who find my entries long and somewhat rambling – tis my style of late)
again a reflection of having somewhat of a new freedom
though worry, stress, meltdowns, darkness and regret still colo(u)r my world
and my choices
I leave the rest to Robert Frost – like carryon Tuesday, he has captured the essence of my existence in an elegance, style, skill, and wordsmithing I can but aspire to:
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.
* * * * *
Standing at the crossroads; which path to take?
The one less travelled will no doubt make all the difference
Now, which one is the one less travelled?