Beneath the moon’s soft, silver glow, A soul sits on a highway, lost in woe. The desolate desert stretches far and wide, As shadows dance in the ebbing tide.
The road stretches, a desolate sea, Echoing the ache of a heart’s disease. Yellow lines, like whispered pleas, Lead to horizons offering no peace.
Stars above, indifferent eyes, Witness to the lonely cries. Head bowed low, burdened with despair, Lost in the stillness of the chilling air.
The asphalt black beneath tired feet, As solitude and sorrow finally meet. No passing cars, no friendly sound, Just the sighs of a world, and sadness unbound.
Star lights flicker, distant flames, They cast no shadows and bear no name. The highway is silent with hushed commotion, And a solitary figure sits lost in emotion.
Silent tears trace a sorrowful face, Aching for solace, and a warm embrace. But the desolate highway, is a silent stage, Where heartache lingers, an unturned page.
Yet, in the quiet, there’s a silent grace, Reflecting a Presence in this lonely place. For on this road where sadness abides, Hope can blossom and the night subside.
This solitary figure, a silhouette of sorrow, Pleading for hope of a bright tomorrow. Man’s desolate highway, a journey of pain, Yet, a mysterious desire, signals healing can reign.