At the End of the Road

It was a road,
Beaten dirt on bed rock,
Hard beneath the souls feet,
Dry to the throat on
A summers day.
Tracked by many,
Seen by few, for
Who wondered about
What lay beneath their feet.

It was a road,
Glinting and harsh,
As letters on a sign post,
Pointing to nowhere,
Mirage in bright light.
Dust devils traveled,
Puffing beyond each step,
Covering each pittfall,
Scintillating motes
Before the eyes.

It was a road,
Passage way of
his existence,
Seeing it all, behind,
In front, beneath,
In each crack,
Extending a helping hand,
Till at the end,
Stooped and weary,
He rested at the end
Of the road.