Greatness

"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference."

Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken

•♥•

Prologue

What is greatness? Is it fame? Is it having the bravery to do the right thing, although it might go against everything you have known, everything you have thought? Is it working anonymously behind the curtains, being the only one knowing what good you are doing for the world? Is it being the fruit of the public eye, glamorous and gilded and glitzy?

Are all great men born great, or is it thrust upon them by a cruel, uncaring world? Are our futures as malleable as clay in a potter's hands, or are they unchangeable and decided the moment we are born? Are all villains born evil, or do they become evil? Is our world contrasting between black and white, or is it filled with in-between shades of gray?

Will our actions be like the pebble thrown into a pristine lake, rippling across the centuries, stopping only at the edge of eternity? Will the wave of a hand cause a hurricane on the other side of the world in some distant future? Will the inhalation of a breath be the beginning of a war to kill millions? Will a single choice decide the end of the world?

Can something be truly unbreakable? Is there armor with no chink, a monster with no Achilles heel? Will there ever be a perfect human, a perfect life, only good and no bad? Is perfect a paradox in itself?

Perhaps I shall never know.