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Poem

“The place of cure of the soul.”

Millions, clasped beyond Minerva's hall,
While inquisitive and confident hard.
Headed down towards different thoughts;
To giant collections, questions, borders strange.

There stood content's house of three.
In front, moved in cylindrical copyrights,
In round pegs and liquid language totems.

Then the first, unsettled pages in riddles,
In spirals, springs, learning machines.
To the second, summers and archived plans.
Thriving in the boundary walls.

Near the citizens, subjects, preservers,
Near the propagative inner rims of
Scholars, thinkers and doers,
Past a fire's waging gaze.

The formats walk up the manuscripts,
Cross, some ease and model's
Algorithmic snapping patents.
The quenching value of such!

Models and catalogue's emphasis
Builds the architecture's exceptional core.
The conscious modular maps, and
The abstract granularity of it all.

The rail crawls on these sheets and 
illustrated diagrams and documents.
In such, roams bound kilometres in bronze, 
and softens the stained glass piazza.

The lengths of the worded path evolve,
On the dotted strings, signs:
Librarians, Poets, Authors, 
Publishers and Students, the oath;
“Seek knowledge from the cradle 
to the library to the grave.”

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