The Road through the Middle

Three roads diverged in a red, white, and blue wood,

And sorry that Macro-physics allows me to choose just one,

Long I stood


First looking as far as I could down the Road to the Left.

I discerned a Toll Booth

And beyond many thread-bare workers laboring long hours

On every kind of government project imaginable.


Then looking as far as I could down the Road to the Right.

Not far off I saw a security gate guarded by many men who were not allowed to think.

Beyond were many lovely golf courses surrounding Pink Resorts

That nobody could afford to visit.


Nothing could I see ahead on the Road through the Middle.

No Trampling of the Growth by clumsy feet had happened there.

No Signpost forecast the awaiting Destination.

But I am as sure as my Forefathers what lies ahead.


Happily I have picked up my load

My feet are picking up the tune of my whistling

Dancing go I to make a Road through the Middle.