These feet have never met.
All lifetime long, fated to tread
their single paths on yielding earth,
to press parched soles against
unsympathetic streets, they desire
only new routes, not dreaming
what they truly seek.
Yet meeting arch to arch, each
toe pressing its long-lost opposite,
these feet have met their match.
Bound in a forced embrace, they find
a blessing in this union, welded
in a prayer to all things lost,
to what was always there.
NOTE: "Yoga" is from a Sanskrit word that, roughly translated, is said to mean or at least to connote "union." It is probably the root of our word "yoked."