Roads in the nighttime ~ a description, a metaphor & ending with a poem

Darkness covers the land like a misted fog, a protective cloak, a mystery. The sky is the deepest blue and the occasional star can be seen behind the swirling powerful shapes of storm clouds. It is nearing midnight and most are in bed. But the roads never rest, never sleep.

Car upon car upon car follow the same path, the same curve, the same line. The beams of headlights move as a one, like a pack of hunting wolves or watching owls. The yellows of older cars and the bright blinding white of the newer cannot be distinguished. The lights bleed into one shape and one colour and one light as the cars swerve around the next bend, as if the light itself has pulled them with a string. The colours are indistinguishable and the passengers are simple silhouettes.

On roads at night people no longer seem the drivers, cars no longer seem the machine. The light, the darkness and the road are in control now. People follow the same path of changing squeaky gears or smoothly finding the clutch, of turning the wheel and holding the pedals. There is little difference which ever way you look. The roads offer little choice as well. The continuous stretch of grey in the daytime sun is now merged into the inky powerful blackness of the night, lit only by the tiny specks of reflected light following the scratched paint lines.

This is a motorway and you follow it for what seems like forever. But it is also a metaphor for our life. You follow the crowd and do as you told. You learn new skills and then put them into practice. You live your life as one person in the giant expanse of our world. You face little choice, little freedom in the modern age, controlled by technology and the society of conformity.

Break out of this pattern and stand out in the crowd.
Be your own person and make your parents proud.
Don’t worry what the world thinks, whether it’s bad or good.
Because no one can judge you deeply, like only you should.

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