The Library

The room is large, cavernous - filled with shelves and shelves of books. The floor is carpeted, the lights steady, and the only sound the low murmur of voices - the occasional turning of a page. Here there are worlds waiting for me. There are galaxies unexplored, adventures untasted, sagas unheard. There are victories to revel in and tragedies to mourn. I browse the tall aisles, run my fingers over the smooth spines of hundreds and hundreds of books. My feet make no sound on the carpeted floor. I pass through like a wraith, like a ghost, my life touching the lives of so many others encapsulated in these still volumes. I sample the pickings, make choices, pass over so many in favor of something better. I handle each book like the treasure it is, mindful of its value. And more, I wander the aisles, taking in the stillness of this sanctuary, breathing in the scent of pages preserved, safe in this place of reading and knowing. My mind is cocooned in calm. There is no rushing here - no fast-paced breathless rat race, no pressure to achieve and achieve… here, all is still - silent yet filled with voices.