Temple's Spire

Temple's Spire
Leah Griffith

I thought I’d live a bigger life
of sweeping landscapes speeding by,
and neon wonders twinkling bright
against a starless urban sky.

An up-close view of all that is
a searching of the sea and more,
each grain of sand,
each polished shell,
whose chambers whisper to the shore.

I thought I'd climb a castle’s tower,
and punctuate through guarded clouds,
favored with the highest views,
through secret doors concealed from crowds.

All this I’d hoped and much much more,
for words cannot justice give,
the longings of a woman’s heart,
where limits part and hope begins.

Three score and ten—little more,
the gods have counted out our days,
pursued by dragons spewing fire,
and warmed by love’s contented blaze.

The best of years now lag behind,
when muscles answered each demand,
and clear minds snapped with fresh ideas,
ready with a perfect hand.

But now the needle’s eye has closed,
the hand unsteady takes its time,
The castle on the hill afar,
stands flawless in my shrouded mind.

And what remains
is mine to own,
the gold, the dross, the love, the dire;
the journey inward has outrun,
the swiftest feet to temple’s spire.