The speaker is addressing a place he has never reached: Tierra del Fuego, the southern tip of South America. He asks how much longer he must wait to touch it, and admits he shudders at the thought that it may never happen. The longing is old. He says he tore a picture of the place from a page decades ago and has kept it locked in his heart ever since.
What draws him is recognition. The storms, twisted trees, lashing waves and aloof snowy peaks look harsh, but he senses a lonely heart underneath that wants to be understood. "I knew you as I know me," he says. The place becomes a mirror of his own stormy youth.
The ending is quieter. In his dreams he doesn't climb or fish or explore. He simply stands on a rock looking out, then pockets a moss-covered stone close to his heart. The mood is yearning and tender, with a calm, private ache.