Library Poem by Paul Reed

Here they stand, in long lines
Shoulder pressed to shoulder,
Unmoving, patient, steady
Waiting for the fire of human knowledge
To leave them in ashes;
I stand amongst the collected rows
The rank and file of thoughts
All standing still and dead to the world
Gathering dust and broken spines,
Yellowing and damp spotting,
And, at some unforeseen moment in the future,
Useless to anyone;
Dead weights, closed faces, inward looking,
Read and forgotten,
Memorised but drifted away
The sweat that produced them
Evaporated and gone;
Imprint them on your mind
Take solace from the lifelessness
Daring only to whisper
In the silence.