Hazel McKay's "Reach" is one long breath of wanting. Every line begins with "For the," and the speaker simply keeps going, piling up things worth reaching toward: the sky, the moon, dreams, kisses, love, fire, and finally "the everything."
The list starts huge and distant (skies, clouds, sun, stars), then moves closer to the heart with wishes, desire and passion. After that it widens again into pairs of opposites: the possible and the impossible, the past and the future, the little and the big, the horizon and the shore. The pairs suggest the speaker doesn't want to choose. They want to hold the whole range of experience, comfortable things and out-of-reach ones alike.
The mood is hopeful, restless and a little breathless. The repetition works like a chant or a prayer, and the title explains it: this is a poem about stretching out your arms. Ending on "everything" feels both ambitious and tender, as if reaching itself is the point.