It could be verse

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan,
tell the pot to put the kettle on;
But tea does not go with snicker-snacks,
tell the pot to put the kettle back.

Two roads diverged in a wood of yellow,
and I, being a clever fellow,
chose neither traveled less, nor more
I took the fork, and went to explore.

A model in a studio,
inspires us to boldly go,
how strange the vision she provides,
after her creator dies.

And did those feet in Ancient time,
chance to trod my hometown's grime?
Could it be the feet of God
played baseball with dinosaurs upon this sod?

Turning and turning my options abound,
each path unique, each choice profound,
but only one can I walk down.
How do I know how to proceed,
when no better life is guaranteed?