She was the destination,

a opening, a pinpoint
that stood out on the map
of claustrophobic road ways
and broken down dirt paths.

As they all intersected,
each one trying to out do the other,
she stood alone.  

They weren't like her,

Sure,
more feet had traveled along them each day,
than eyes that had ever been laid upon her.

But that's what made her special.
the roads were only appreciated in passing,
she,
was were civilizations built their homes.

Men from the farthest corners of the earth,
searched for her.
but she locked her feelings,
the directions to her soul,
in bottle and casted it off into the ocean.

I never really liked the water,
but my life was never worth living with out her,
So I've spent years searching the ocean floor,
hoping,
praying,
that one day my foot will stop abruptly
on a glass bottle,
and her heart would be mine.

I'd travel past the roads,
smirking at their insignificance
as they blurred by in the rearview mirror.

I'd hike up cliffs,
chop down trees,
where ever it might take me,
till I could see her,
and finally,
be
at
peace.