The Lonesome Road Poem by Mitchell Weidman

The sun is high in the sky,
rays beating on him heavily,
no cars in sight for miles,
gravel road, cutting up his feet,
yet he continues on.

thoughts running through his head,
nodes delivering messages through his brain,
all by himself from here he must go,
to the end of the road is where his destiny lies,
for that is why he must go on.

No food or water from days on end,
no one to speak to or shelter to seek,
for the single man has fallen so weak,
even though getting hazy, what seemed so bitter,
the man fighting to walk, was certainly no quitter.

on evening after all had forgot,
it seemed like they left him out to rot,
someone called out look someones hurt,
everyone in town ran out and gathered around,
just to see the man lying on the ground.

dead silence struck through the crowd,
as the man rose to his feet and said out loud,
'I have finished the task'
everyone looked at each other in such astound,
for the man had just earned great renown.

some call it a legacy, others a myth,
but one man will live to tell the story,
to triumph as victor in the end,
he will be able to acknowledge the facts,
that he who speaks of it completed it.

to this day no one dares face the path,
that only one man has ever been said to complete,
with just the clothes on his back and the shoes on his feet,
to complete it would mean greatness for that you'd have bestowed,
as only one man has challenged the Lonesome Road.