No rear view mirrors
I do not need to look back
What good will that do?

A blooming flower in the harsh midwinter
withers only when it wants.
A mature adolescent, very young
living life without his taunts.

A grand piano, that when played,
is beautifully off key.
A wave sitting still, completely calm
sleeping on the sea.

A piece of parchment, not scribbled on
but has a tale to tell.
A drop of rain released from the sky
and yet it never fell.

You're as astounding and rare as they come
believe it, it is true.
And if you believe in all these things
you'll come to see they are you.

One day I will go over those mountains,
those tall, wise mountains that hold many treasures.
I will sit atop them and remember all of the discoveries
that are enclosed in my heart of glass.

I will recall the times I jumped the swallowing abyss
and climbed the needle-pointed ledges.
I will have survived the tangled ivy
and have tackled the ferocious beasts.
I will have persevered the treacherous, winding path that led to the top,
disappearing into a twinkling night sky.

And while I sit atop that mountain, I'll sense the victorious glow of the sun
intertwine with light breeze sweeping across my skin.
I shall not look back at what I have accomplished,
but instead take my glass heart and open it to a new set of tidings.

For there are always taller mountains in the distance to climb.