This Road Of Grief

In the middle of two white lines, Glowing as they go straight, And then curve delicately or abruptly, And then go straight again, The only source of light aside from The glows of red and white That seem to travel farther and farther Away, until it seems like you're alone. You can still see them, but They're at a distance, as if You'll never reach them, So you're alone in between the Two bright lines and the very empty, And the very dark, Canvas above you're head. You're face is red and hot, And warm, salty, tears cling To your face, and the only reason You even bother to wipe them Is to focus on the dark sheet of Blackness under your wheels And the red lights ahead of you. Just when you feel so alone, So in grief and pained, You see bright lights ahead of you, And suddenly the dark canvas above you, And the dark blackness beneath you, Are lit up and brightened, And you see so many bright lights above You, that you realize It'll be okay So this road of grief, This road of loneliness, This road of self-doubt, This road of reflection, This road of realization, This road becomes something else, Something more beautiful, Something impossibly real. It becomes this road of hope.