When Following Ends

So, it comes to this, days fall down, day after day until there is nothing left and nowhere to go. The road comes to an end and the options run out. Here I stand on the edge of the cliff, the last of the road behind me, and the sea, far below, stretching out beyond the horizon, beyond any place I can see.

There was a time when there would have been people behind me, those that followed me and would have once followed me anywhere; even to here, the place where there is nowhere left to go. Once I had the power to hold them, I only had to reach out my hand and there would be someone there: ready, eager, willing to do whatever I bid.

Now there is no-one and I am alone.

I used to be able to tell them stories, tell them all the things they wanted to hear. I told them of the heroes they longed to be and of the lovers that were waiting for them once they returned to those lands we once called home.

Once I was the hero, the leader, the one who would be king of all he could see and lord of everywhere he wanted.

Now I am alone, the road has run out, and all that lies in front of me is the endless sea.