If I had steps

reflections on a picture of steps i saw at

     I sometimes just close my mind and create a world within walls where I am the keeper of books. Wonderful old books with heavy odors of everyone who held them in all of time. Insights of every creature, man and otherwise, who lived here and in far off worlds. Observations in and of time. Everyone and everything. They all exist in the special world I created just for their purpose. They exist up there, at the top of those steps.

 

     I have authored none. I have read some. A few have left a lasting impression upon me. I found  entertainment and worthwhile content in some titles; yet, Family Values leaves me so null and void of anything positive to say of others. Others have been an annoyance and a senseless assault on my norms, just no longer in resolve with my thoughts and desires in life. That said, I by no means pass any judgment on the talents of those involved. Mealy the statement that while not offended, I was so under whelmed by anything of value to be obtained by my continued reading.

 

     Both good and bad, they are all there. Some in languages unknown and some about things I can not conceive. They are all beautiful and give a real purpose to my needs and address the nostalgic coma I find myself in at times. I have no illusion of asymmetric insight. I mealy close my eyes and wish it so. I hold them in my hands. I open them and I see all things. My eyes blur and I stammer under the weight of all memory as well as loosing my breath with aspirations of tomorrow.

 

     I am so blessed to have books.

 

     If I had steps which lead to that created world, they would look like these I suppose.