The lonely road ran beneath my rolling tires as my car sputtered at the pressing wind that reluctantly blew past to a place far behind me. Few cars ventured on the roads at this hour, but every once in a while a brave soul pushed through the darkness of the night in search of where they needed, or felt they needed to be. Every so often I encountered one, floating forward with slow, careful persistence, to a place of hopeful comfort. I drove without much purpose, the gliding asphalt throwing quiet punches at my passing car, the distracting hum of machinery scraping through the air. All the while I watched, waiting for what would come next.
Overhead a sign blew past, patiently awaiting it’s purpose of guidance to be fulfilled. As it wandered by, I looked to see what it said. “You Will Die,” it read, and this was true; sooner or later I would. I wondered who had mounted it there, and what they were thinking as they climbed the rusting metal rungs that led them to its resting place. Did they know what it said? Maybe, although only they knew what was and wasn’t. I pondered the intentions of whoever wanted to get it there. Who were they? An art student maybe, or perhaps just someone wanting to try something new; someone questioning their own life, wanting others to question theirs.
How do you want to spend it? Is it going the way you intended? What are your values? Morals? I turned my thoughts back to the road. Whatever had happened to get that sign there was in the past, and all I could do was wonder at the strange, questioning peacefulness it conveyed.