Ode to the Library
As I sit in this library my senses are overwhelmed,
The lights, the scent, the taste, the feel, the sound, flow together into a euphoric symphonic composition of pure knowledge.
The florescent lights hum with vigor as they flank down the central corridor illuminating the minds of obedient scholars. My pupils constrict to take in the freshness and purity of the blank pages in front of me, filled with all the potential of the world. The reflected light bends and dances around the mahogany shelves that contain the the collected experiences of the past, present, and the fantastical. These grand sights lead ones that blind me to Enlightenment
After passing the gatekeepers to this sacred place I immediately inspire the scent of withering paper. All the smells of each scene and setting percolate from the pages to a divine odor that embellishes each hallow aisle. It thickly covers each and every desk, table, and book until everything it touches is saturated by it. It flows mightier then the Nile and completely coats everything. I only feel bliss as it soothes away the stress and pain of the real world. I breathe the aroma deeply and let it crash into my very soul
The taste that titillates the tongue is not one of the stomach but of the mind and heart. The only hunger here is the thirst for the truth, the craving of adventure, the drunkenness of literature. Only the open buffet that stands before me can satisfy me to fulfillment.
The heighten feel of the utensil in my hand as the black ink of thought oozes out of its sharp tip. The click of each key as creativity is pecked onto the screen. The scratchy texture of each book cover and flip of each thin page are all the intense physical pleasures experience by me. Every minuet movement precisely coordinated by an electrical storm inside three pounds of tissue act like a coordinated ballerina's antique clock. Here time is forever stalled and preserved.
My ears beat with the sound of scribbling pages and typing keys as they write new music for the generations to hear. It is so loud in here that the thoughts and ideas and opinions and beliefs are being hammered and shocked together that the inner mind's thunder can be felt at work. The noise is miraculously masked by the monk's holy vow. Although the silence roars through the halls it can not prevail over the dialogue that is encamped between two thick covers. Each author screams their voice in the recorded texts that one must just flip a page and be blown-away with their very tone. The gatekeep although trys her best to enforce the silence can not damper the circus that is within.
It is true that we have a Tantalus reach for Knowledge. But she is the ultimate beauty that attracts us. Each generation comes and drinks from her life source but instead lavishes her with their own. Our senses can not embrace her ambivalence. She restores and destroys us, inspires and frustrates us, gives and takes from us but one thing is resolute- every sense of what she is is contained here in this library.
