I woke up with Robert Frost this morning...
with sweep of wind and downy flake
I woke and I could see without warning
His Woods as his little horse gave his head a shake...

The road less taken has brought me here
To where I’ve stopped without a farmhouse near
Meditating on what has brought me to this queer
Circumstance and I pause in solitary fear,

Thinking back to words unsaid and deeds undone
Realising that I am fortunate that they are few...
I can see that my Self is greater than the sum
Of my parts, even though I still have much to do

My word is good and my debts are covered.
If I should die tomorrow I’d have few regrets,
Except that I hadn’t seen all the worlds’ wonders
And that I wouldn’t get to see what happens next

But it seems that there are still deeds to do,
My little horse has become a fiery steed...
Carrying me in crusade against those who
Bind spirits that should be able to live free

Unfortunately, crusaders take some chances,
Whether right or wrong, they’ll meet resentment...
They threaten the status quo with golden lances,
Left broken on the sturdy revetments