Are these ethereal mountains
Above my horizon ripe for 
Conquest? Can I top that high
Transparent peak in my boot.
It's an illusion that I can tread
This ghost mountain to plant
My flag. The cloudy vaporous
Hills will vanish into the air
And moisture that made them.
They will ascend into the water
And vapor from whence they came.
No march to the summit for me.
Scaling these smokey heights
Eludes my foothold, my foot
Hits a slippery slope and leaves
No print. My sole fails to come
Into contact with this aery 
Terrain. The connection can't 
Hold. No matter the invitation
To rise to the top, my sole slips 
Through theiir mists and falls
Flat. This climb is in my dreams.

Climb 2

There is a mountain just 
Above my horizon. It 
Invites me to scale it 
To its peak but defies
Any footing on its soft
Milky invisible surface. 
It might be thought of 
As a ghost mountain,
As ethereal as air. In fact
There's no foothold there.
Like a mound of feathers,
Its pillowy and soft, and
Eludes in transparency 
For a slippery trip to the
Top. There is no hugging
The slope with your sole.
The mountain I have to 
Climb is air and moisture