The Stairs Of Caprice

[tectak]

Away in the woods, a winding path stood.
A staircase, ascending to somewhere.
These flights of steps, these flighty stairs,I think you are taking an easy way out of this stanza. It just doesn't go far enough to need a map to get back. You could easily omit this whole stanza and not worry about flighty flight stairs and wandering wondering on paths stood in woods. This is just to simplistic and more nursery rhyme than you intended.
I wandered, leads me where?

Cross the Threshold of Yesteryears,You have now realised that the first stanza didn't do it for you and have swung the other way. This stanza is overblown and wordy to the extent of being hyper-hyperbole. Calm down the rhetoric and avoid the repetition of resoundingly banal metaphors of the "of" type.
to the Grand Porticoes of Tomorrow.
Braced by Pillars of Virtue’s Tears,
and the heartstrings of sorrow.

Behold!
Its golden welcome stands sublime,
The Temple of Anamnesis.Unless you are an unusually perceptive philosopher you would do well to avoid bandying Plato's words. It is not easy to convince a reader that you are anything other than a dilettante on this showing; it is never easy at the best of times, but the attempt to grandify a portico, essentially a porch, by giving it the title of Porch of Tomorrow sounds more like Double Glazing than philosophical rendition
Afterthoughts, suspended in time.Cliche, but there will be more, I suspect.

Neath its cornice Cove of Wonder,OF and OF and OF just does not work. You are trying to impress too much and sound as though you have googled it all. I will not and so may never know of Athor or his winged sphere.....and I do not care.
bares the winged Sphere of Athor.
The crest of the primordial mother,
whose legends, myths and lore,
suckled upon her shore.

Cloaked in the shadows of lost and found,OF and OF and OF. It really is too much.
Lures the Labyrinth of Jareth.
Where endless tunnels of roundabouts,
and pitfall drops, abound.My knowledge of Jareth takes me to Bowie's role in Labyrinth though how I got here without taking drugs is beyond my ken.

Lose yourself in the Chamber of Hushed,the rest? Well, it is just more OF the same. I find lists hard going. See end.
the Archives of Anonymity.
Here ancient stories are whispered,
in unspoken secrecy.

Roam the Rooms of Riddles, with bolted doors, unsolved.
Pirouette down the Spinning Ballrooms,
and dance, dance, dance, on the polka-dotted floors.

Wait up by the Room of Impatience,
or behind the “rooms to grow”.
Listen in the Room of Silence,
that echoes “I don’t know..”

Stray up, along the Corridor of Sacred Passage,
Pass the roaring Halls of Fame.
Or Down the Avenue of Bane Knowledge,
Walled, in whimpering shame.

Ingress pride and honor, climbs up the Turrets of Conceit.
Spiraling down vainglorious, stumbled potholes of deceit.

Out onto the garden, strewn wild, with reckless dreams,
Misled tall and overgrow, are the weeds of illusive schemes.

Beware! Beware! Up and down the stairs!

Enter the Galleries of Phantom Faces,
meet faes in petticoat silks and laces.
Statuette Busts of Prophetic Sages,
of heroes and villains, down the ages.
Caricatures of man, creatures from Pan.

Homes of strangers feigned familiar, mystic dens quite peculiar!
Covens of Aragon, Crystal Realms of Paragon,
Phoenix nests and dragon lairs, even sanctuaries,
to abandoned teddy bears.

Away in the woods, a winding path stood.
A staircase, ascending to nowhere.
These flights of steps, these flighty stairs of promise-
I now know, leads somewhere.

It beckons a choice -
Crossroads of childhood or a jaded voice.

I know who I am and I know my heart,
As sure as Pied Piper, piped the portals apart.

I’m holding the key,
Unbarring the gate,
Up the flighty steps of fancy.

I’m late! I’m late! Not a moment’s tarry,
to my rendezvous with fate.
Up the steps, I shall venture with ease,
with a hop skip and jump,
up the stairs of caprice.

Hello,
I am competely with Addy on this one. All bases covered.