The Roads To You

I stare at my bare feet (right now).

My bare feet that have walked thousands of different grounds, 
over stones, concrete, fresh watered grass, light and dark sand,
felt different temperatures,
even caressed different bed sheets. 

My feet have taken me to numerous places, 
transported me to different worlds, ran through different decades, different shoes,
held my body in different weights. 

I've walked the roads I've intended to walk.
So far. 
Some (roads) with a higher degree of consciousness,
others with the impulse of intuition,
a few driven by an inexplicable force that emanates in the depths of my abdomen,
travels around and up to the center, most intimate spot of my sternum. 

(What is it?
Is it "something"?
Where does "it" come from?
Does it know where I'm going?
Where I must arrive?)

The roads to you.
(What happened?!)
The stars aligned 
(But that sounds too cheap and fortuitous)
The roads to you.
(How did I get here?!)
Who made this plan? 

The sweetest flower perfume could not match the intoxicating scent when you're close by.
The warmest water of a natural spring could not compare to how my skin feels when it touches yours.
I'm taken.
I'm lifted and taken to a place of nothing but everything.
There is no time,
There is no place,
There is no body part.
It's all unconfined, free-flowing energy generated by us.
It's light that blinds,
It's music that deafens,
It's taste that numbs.

The roads to you seemed intuitive,
The roads to you seem gentle, serene. 
I walk, but 
I'd run,
I'd swim,
fly (if I could).

You made my truth be free.
You make my truth alive.