It started in the fiction section
Beginning with a trickle causing lights to flicker
From the floors below hitting the dictionaries,
The thesauruses became wet or rather dank
Those are synonyms I think
Unfortunately, no books to now know
As a storm in the library began to grow.

Children abandoned in their places,
Started tying books with their shoe laces
Setting sail, trying to hold their head up for a bit.
As a white whale's tail caused waves in a flick.
One parent yelled "everyone for themself!"
As his son coughed water asking for help
Books floating, amongst dirt and crude,
The third floor was beginning to flood.

The nonfiction was now non-existent,
Drifting past CDs that no one had listened.
Computers with a floppy drive were fried,
Electrically hissing through historical fiction.
The water came to hit the roof, the sky
Just then the walls crumbled
And I opened my eyes
To see I'd fallen asleep among the graphic novels
Where I had been known to hide.

Late at night
When there's no place to go.
Sometimes I visit the library of your smile.
But not for one particular reason or another.
Sometimes I go because it's so well lit.
Engaging in the silence of a smile.
Sometimes when it's late
I am most comfortable there.
The urge of going somewhere yet everywhere
Between the bookcase of your lips.
Following the ridges & creases that most people
walk by without second glance.
Sometimes there just isn't enough time in the day,
Following the adventures and misadventures
of earth tone browns
Reference guides & resources.
To volunteer to such precious things
Late at night when I have no where to go
I visit the library of your smile.
But not because I have no where to go
There is no place like you around.
All in proper regard to the staff

Nine muses attend the burning
of creation. Sing they.
Songs of sadness. Flames
fill the night.
Smoke carries the knowledge of Ptolemy across the sky.
Fire
from Caesar’s burning fleet*
ignites the home of Euclid and Heron.

Words that knew the world reduced to embers.

I walked into life's library to seek perhaps adventures there.
Not really knowing what I sought my expectations unaware.

I looked first at the non-fiction upon shelves marked clearly with tape.
The more I looked yet did I realize it was from that I sought escape.

I chanced upon a section where great imagined dramas did abound.
Where mystic stories and strange creatures on the pages could be found.

Caught briefly by the imagined on the pages with heroes deeds upon.
I realized all was fantasy so through the pathway of books I ventured on.

Time passed as it tends by some scale that seemed so erratic in its flow.
As shelves and stories passed me by along the route I chose to go.

I came then to a section with a long queue of people standing there.
Patiently in their place and each with determined and focused stare.

What was it that drew them and caused this lengthened line?
Their looks suggested that the need, was very much like mine.

I had passed so many shelves with random people here and there.
But no other shelf or section for which this queue I could compare.

Through strong and strange compulsion I resolved to take my chance.
To join the much sought after line toward the shelf of "Love and Romance".

Surely, though our story is to be found amongst the rooms and walls and shelves  within the library of Babel...

Each letter perfectly paired to the next, and every space in its rightful place.
Periods and commas punctuating every moment exactly as they should.

...That room has yet to be illuminated, The walls therein unseen, It’s shelves have been left unenumerated.
And the book is yet unnamed...

Lost is the certainty,
the written account,
existing within the infinite possibilities of algorithmic and mathematical clout.

...Leaving us to marvel and worry only armed with faith and good reason, through all of life’s seasons and its many unmeasurable miserable doubts.