The silence tingles -
Hair raising-
As we process into the temple,
Silent in a way that children never are -
Here is the place where reverence feels infinitely natural
The stories of generations falling as rain on uncovered heads;
Soaking to the skin
Merging the celestial and the body,
We stretch for knowledge to be handed gently down to us
Every plant and potion at our fingertips,
And a spell is cast in the turning of pages,
Every brick infused with magic,
Given away freely to every person that steps through the door
Of the library