Do you find yourself drawn to the way pages turn in your hands

Endless stories written on paper worn from thousands of pairs before?

As you wander the carefully crafted and fantastical lands

That bloomed from fingertips dancing across a keyboard, 

Hear the rustling of thin sheets and the soft whispering

Of the pillars Wisdom and Knowledge and Understanding,

Feel, in every book, these three wonders in your head, 

Are you aware that soon this place may be dead?

Long live the walls that once housed these texts — yet

Internet and ambience are the only things in your head

Books aesthetically placed on the shelves on which they rest 

Remember those days when they were actually read

As you traverse and become trapped in the World Wide Web

Ruminating over messages behind blue light screens instead

You should know that the old library is already dead

But what of the foundations that remain inscribed

In this final resting place of stories and history?

Remember the true purpose that this place provides

To the generations whose curiosity will never cease

Humans young and old reminiscing and holding

On to the pillars Wisdom and Knowledge and Understanding 

Feel, in every nook, these three wonders in their heads

Aware that these old places will fade to their deaths. 

New innovations leave no time for tears to be shed

Everything comes and goes, but the three pillars are set

Remaining on the same walls people pass as they tread

Along the death of a library, the birth of an era ahead.