My Library

My neck crooked backward, I stand between the stacks feeling the weight of centuries, the distilled wisdom of minds who graced the earth with golden words, words that pace the pages - vellum, parchment, fine and common papers; words, cordoned in lines, confined, yet powerful tools to set one free, a roamer far from home, across universes, beyond time's reach. The light filters through high windows downward to where I peer with squinted eyes teasing out a jewel - a title, an author, an adventure, a friend. The air is charged, the static of adventure, heartfelt journeys of a hundred thousand writers, their souls etched upon the pages for ones such as I to stumble upon decades, centuries later, dream maps thought castles, imaginative quests. Quietness reigns. The elements of books - leather, cloth, paper and ink - infuse a rich elixir, a mind expanding potion, companion to best wine and oldest friendships seasoned, mellowed, treasured. © Faye Lanham Gibson, August 11, 2015