some in frequent use
pages darkened by hungry fingers
'who done it'
tickling the darkest inside us

some covered by dust
only yellow by age
'who wants to know'
fuelling the creative light

during long dark nights
dark prose in the poetry corner
and whiskey stinking PI's
comparing their scars 

silent with millions of words
organised in rows and shelfs
collective minds
peaks and abysses of humanity

Growing up in a broken home in the suburbs, the library was always a safe haven. Still today I get calm entering a library or a book store.

Take care of the libraries, Ha de Gött!