The Library (World after World)

In my youth
I would between the pages
like motes of dust clamoring
giving the illusion of rising in
a thin ray of light
except that here
there was no up or down
no side to side
just in
a door opening on the floor
for me to gaze through
daring me to enter.

I knew then
that this was just the beginning
there would always be more pages
more doors to fall into.
Pages filled with words
stories and images
surrounded by other pages
other spines
aligned narrowly
series after series
(world after world)
on lines of metal shelves.

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