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.