The Open Road
There it is,
and swept along, the common wind
of everyday reality, leading
through the metaphysical and
to infinity. There, and just for us.
It is too soon ignored. Too soon,
conformity. Too soon
the halloos are but faint upon our ears.
The marchers will retire; iconoclasts
abandon the most distant cause.
The infinite is just too far away.
It matters not. The road begins
just out of town, and that is where
faith travels...down the path
of martyrdom and ecstasy,
of beauty and disgust.
It is Frost's road less traveled
and sheer faith is like that
as it must be,
forging ever far ahead,
irrespective of terrain both now
and ages in the sweep
of ages never dreamed, and there,
and open still.
Just out of town.
And who will set upon it, now,
No surety. I'm out of promises.
It's just a road.
Now will you come?
Copyright © Robert Ludden | Year Posted 2014
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