Fortress

The wood heaves and sighs
With the weight of a fresh hero
Claiming his place among
The venerated. The surface
Worn smooth with time
And consequence.

Yawning mouths like caverns
Hoard vast lexical treasures.
Every word is golden,
Guarded from greedy hands
In the sanctuary of those
Groaning walls.

I tarry here often, begging to feel.
A temple of the mind responds
To fervent prayers with emotion;
Hope swells like a cresting wave,
Or crashes into the fathomless
Depths.

Your simple planks transcend
Your utilitarian purpose.
You are no Alexandria,
No great Pergamum.
Yet you hold all the world’s joy
In a panoply of pages.