A poem: For love of the library

I love books SO much that I sat and wrote a poem today about my deep affection:

Today, dashing in the library for a quick errand, I was once again overwhelmed with gratitude. Rushing as usual, how silly to have a tear collect in my eye for the pure joy of being here! But not really silly - I pause to feel my own gratitude.

Gratitude for the bounty of books the bounty of knowledge, the bounty of sharing through careful written words. Authors who have sacrificed to give of their mind and their hearts. Authors who continue to be heard because our society has not burned their work.

Gratitude for reading, for reading is the chance to transcend space and time. What a miracle that merely decoding black figures on white papers informs the whole soul! Reading harvests the sweetest and toughest of human thought and makes the mind and heart to soar.

Gratitude for writing. We have many languages to write in. and many forms of acceptable writing: poetry, novel, essay. Each kind touches us in a unique way and we have our preferences, But what matters is that God gave us writing.

Books, I muse, are the embodiment of the most meaningful form of freedom. Books lead to knowledge, and knowledge leads to a desire to express ones self more fully, which expression is only possible through freedom. My soul feels free here, As if I could spend a whole lifetime in this building which feels as big as the universe for all that it contains.

The tear threatens my eye as I pause to think of what this place means to me. A reverence touches my heart for the bounty I have here. Thank you, thank you, I silently whisper while strangers brush past me. Who am I whispering to? Authors ? Yes. Sociological visionaries who established libraries? Yes. Teachers who gave me the gift of literacy? Of course. The happenstance that places me at this place and point in history? Indeed. God, who is in charge of it all? Yes, and yes again.