Rich Mansfield's speaker is worn out and unsure where they are going. They have walked so long that they think they've lost their way, and they start to doubt they ever had a direction at all. The opening question, whether seeing the sunrise might make the day better, sounds hopeful, but it is only a small "if." Nothing is promised.
The road works as a picture of life, though the poem never says so outright. The speaker walks "blindly" and can't tell night from day, which suggests numbness or confusion more than a single moment of danger. Even so, they keep going. They choose the "beaten path," the familiar and well-worn route, in case it leads somewhere they can rest. That choice feels more like tired stubbornness than confidence.
The ending turns into a quiet prayer for a "silent and peaceful place." The mood is weary and lonely, but gentle rather than angry. What the speaker wants most is not an answer, but rest.