In the quiet heart of endless aisles,
Where time stands still, yet never stays,
Stories slumber in forgotten files,
Awakening in the mindâs embrace.
The scent of ink, a gentle guide,
Draws wanderers through tales untold,
Binding souls with threads that bide,
In realms where dreams unfold.
Each page a portal to distant lands,
Where heroes rise and legends speak,
In libraries vast, the world expands,
For those who seek, yet never seek.
As whispers echo through hallowed halls,
The silence dances with ancient lore,
In this sanctuary, the spirit calls,
To lose oneself, and find much more.