temple in my head

I'm tearing down walls
Of temples in my mind
Though these idols may fall
They are something more than false

A shadow hangs in the corner of my eye
Slowly growing stronger
Feeds on my attention
I cannot look too long

Five generations built this tomb
Raised high the vaults
Straining
Stone by stone, beam by beam
Cut windows, laid floor
Carved and painted sacred scenes long past
Greater and sharper than life

I stand at the crux
Doubting my strength
These halls have fallen into disrepair under those before me
Who squandered their good fortune on wine, women, and hard song
To restore half-forgotten glory
No sure task
Despite how broad and honest I should take it on

But oh!
To destroy
To burn and smash and tear
And, as Aenas, or even Shiva
Start anew. . .
A feat beyond my reckoning.

For there is no catharsis left in this season
No bridges still to burn that would not kill in beauty
Threefold the worth in vanquished ill

So perhaps I'll leave open the doors and the windows
and perhaps I shan't repair the weathered roof
And as so often I used to
I'll go wandering
Through the lands of half-new strangers
'Til I find how long this old dream can still be home