Abandoned on a Desolate Road

Abandoned on a Desolate Road

On a day that began like any other, I was abruptly and violently cast onto an abandoned, forsaken stretch of cold asphalt and gravel.
First came the shock, then a sound began to swell from afar, heralding the approach of a long, sorrowful parade of cars—

Each vehicle, windowless, a procession of silent metal.
As they groaned to a stop, the people—so many people— ventured out, at first a trickle,
Then a torrent, spilling somberly from their cars.

They gathered around me,
Some silent, others faded and distant,
Their faces blurred, offering condolences,
Some probing for details.

With some, I wept in quiet solidarity,
With others, I found comfort in their embrace
Some, I entertained.

Then, in unison, they returned to their cars, turning to me with silent pleas:
“Won’t you come with us here?” 

“No,” I mouthed, as I solemnly turned my head from side to side.

The cars, in a great shudder, revved their engines and began to move again,
Vanishing into the endless horizon,
The hum of their tires fading into the night’s impenetrable darkness.

And there I stood, weary and disconsolate, abandoned and alone once more on the cold, desolate road.

What was once, was now lost.

I remained, staring into the void, the bitter taste of ashes in my mouth.