The Traveler…

Thoreau wanted to suck out all the marrow of life, Shakespeare reflected through Macbeth that all is shadow, that man struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and Frost pondered the road he didn’t take while walking the fence line  replacing fallen stones with his neighbor.  Dare I deign to be as clever, as poignant, as profound as those who wrote before me?  Well, I wouldn’t be alive if I didn’t try.

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