Proffessor T, I think I broke your poem

The Road goes ever on and on, down from the door where it began,
Now far ahead the Road has gone, and I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with weary feet, until it joins some larger way,
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.

This Path I tread is darker yet, than any Road I've trod upon,
The doors are ashes at my feet, and more will follow yet, anon,
Pursuing it with some regret, for on the path are visions fell,
Some Darkness I hope ne’er to meet.
And whither then? I shall not tell.