Two routes diverged in a wormhole fair,
And being cautious I could not travel both
And 'twas one traveler, cloaked I stood
And scanned down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the nebulous undergrowth,

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
With untouched data/relic sites that wanted wear;
Though as for the traffic passing there
Had probably stalked them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
As dangerous for anyone skilled in ops so black.
Oh, I kept the first route for another day!
Yet knowing how many jumps lead on back to home,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with an irritated sigh,
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two routes diverged in a wormhole fair, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
But I do not know the star the other whence.


(With apologies to Mr. Robert Frost)