Ever Reoccurent

I can climb forever with only one vision in my head,
one day I will reach the top and look down at the skin I have shed.
It will drape like silk over the branches, over the ladder I have scorned.
It will lay there without discretion, with an understanding that it will never again be worn.
I will reach out my infant hand, and the fingertips of the heavens will react.
A beautiful moment in time will surface, shapes and colors turn abstract.
My view from the passenger car window will register,
and all will be revealed.
The ocean will heave my final wave,
and an uneligible letter will be sealed.
There are edges of the universe, of this I am certain.
I've traveled there and back,
tending the lost dream of drawing open the curtain.
The door will stand firm, waiting for the proper key.
The beauty of a dream is that the possibilities are endless,
and that piece of silver becomes me.
I break the glass into shafts of light, bathing in it's tender affection.
This chaos is my confection, my message at drift wading against the current.
I watch it inch closer to the tide, it's beauty ever reoccurent.