What Matters Are The Things In The Middle

It is the road most traveled by, I think.

So somehow, I knew what's in there without threading my footprints on it.

But then, it might be that a different world opens

For each one who dares to penetrate the wilderness behind it

For every time that one dares to take another slip into it.

For some, the travel ends in a meadow.

But for some, in a ravine.

Maybe what matters are the things that happened in the middle.
The perils, the undertakings, the adventures.

Along the way, through the way.