"Library Poem"

Every night students hearken

To me as the sky darkens.

Tonight they come to escape the squall

In my hallowed halls.

As well as to negate their ignorance.

From my lamps, their shadows dance

As some distorted selves

On my cavernous shelfs. 

The air inside is thick and still. 

Except for the flutter of  pages-

Like the wings of moths

Drawn to enlightenment

Only dulled by the pour on my window sills

The aura is saturate

With the scent of books aged

And drying ink from scrawled thoughts.

The more the leaves start to thin

The more my desks beckon.

Students weave the tapestries

Of their academic masteries.

Their works imbued with eloquence

From labor in my revered silence

So let me enrobe you

In my soft gold hue. 

Subjects started as ebony and obscure

Soon become illuminated

So I wait with breath bated

For I am your cure for the unknown.