COME TO; ONE MUST COME TO MY DEAREST READER.

On the Pillars of the Great Library — A Visit to the Endless Halls of Thought Over Reason — Goodness And Wellness — Serial №V

Accompany Me Through The Shifting Quicksand Of Words and Ideas In A World So Endlessly Vast — Through The Hallways Of Knowledge; Where Do I Stand?

Happenstance usually has me — having its way with me, halving me on most days, and why I have perfected the guiltless smile with the blue smock and ankle pants, with the cheerful rainbow atop it all, you always lead me on with more.

You, always having me either refined or being spat out by some incredulous force, such the darling reminder that you are — all my days ever since, tumbling through—so there I was, banking my hips against a large windowsill, peering into the yonder darkness of an approaching midnight sky, with the fraying twinkle of stars far beyond.

A Weeping wall cried through the hollowness of the parlor, so I reproached my gazing and turned into the adhesive hallway and marked myself cleanly into the opening, wherein a large hall appeared out from the dark, twisting as my body did against the rhythm of the song that bounced to and fro.

Even, I thought to myself, the most blinkard would not reproach a scene like this, so I wandered in lofty strides in hobbled, muddy boots against pristine marble and looked up and marveled at the height of the cases which housed, seemingly, an endless sea of tomes.

I could grope at what I deem so attractive, but where would the answers lie? Richotting a thought to companion, if they were here with me, otherwise the hallway shall be amassed with the dialogue of just one.

Endlessly gopping at the mind beneath them, by the hubris of their expanse and swaying, seemingly, to my eyes by the eagerness of my akimbo to this cackling in the air between a Seer and an array of shelves —subterranean, with a hint of minimal subterfuge pacing itself well over the hall, by what glinted there.

If the animation of dusty tomes had taught me aught up to this point, duplicity was the sign of this room. Days coming to me, tickling my chin with a sardonic laughter of hopeless days in the search — sometimes I ask myself in the search of what? What am I searching for, especially to have hobbled myself in a place that is nearly as endless as that?

Perhaps that is the meaningless rouse of my meaningful ados; never yer mind about my despair — when I turn that away for a moment and bequeath the filth for a moment for another — after all, that is why you called yourself Doctor, divorced away from the Sightseer’s vocation!

March of dimes, the march of flowers, these are the prisoners and this is the ceaseless contortions of why — but what ample humor, me stumbling around as a pegleg-less pirate in a nifty gaff as this, how could I not smile and break the silence.

Popping me head down numerous tower-heightened shelves, I swear I felt something staring back at me; with my courage firmly displaced, I turned down one and made my way happenstance-ly to just one. Picking it up, I disclosed the cover and found what lay on the first page:

Nikola Tesla’s autobiography and an array of his inventions — how marvelous is that? — I would even attest there was a sudden subtle glow coming from my eyes, so I flipped the page over to the middle one, or near enough, and started to be beguiled purposely at the contents.

I thought: pity mate, you didn’t know of any good tea-quarters ‘round here? Could do with a nice brew of golden tea, straight-up from Yorkshire, with a nice bourbon biscuit doing the rounds of wee delights. The book responded coldly by shrugging me off with the animated turning of a few pages. Thanks mate, I appreciate losing my place in a tome I had no direction in!

So I closed it in defiance and shoved the leatherbound back from it came, such is the nerve of some books, but I love you still, Tessie! — It would shrug at that I bet! So I ruffled up my bottom lip, going bemused till I found my next book. Bingo! Suddenly stopping at the speed to make the monkies shriek, I turned and saw it!

A book, standing out so sexily to me as several of my women crushes, of which, I would oblige and quickly stomp over and stare it closely — face to face, shall we dance, I thought to the book; it wouldn’t be my first romp talking to inanimate objects.

Suddenly, The goal of Leonard Cohen’s posthumous might comes over me, either by strange marble loudspeakers or by my subconscious — sometimes hard to distinguish — sometimes you tricking universe do like to play a funny game over me, at moments almost as this to portent something I ought to know but frequently ignore — yer know, at the slight of mind, or delayments…

Few philosophers ever had the tone of a red-head Irish lass, a note said briefly, but that might be my ego faltering in and out — you do play me such a catch! I suppose now you know the tone that bounces around these anciently pristine halls! — Suddenly, I remembered I was carrying a wee container of a home-baked brownie and a flask of dubiously mixed tea — oh, glory be!

This memory is chucked full of sudden things — I know — welcome to the flats of memories, but hold-to! The book — yeah, I am sure you’re wondering what it be and what it contains, well, it was Peter Mendelsohn’s top ten tips on how to fool over-eager eyes; Pity! a name I was sure to pass the rest of eternity of not hearing again.

All pent energies for naught — such a typical Yorkshire love story! Hush, I should know. But Doctor, please tell us how this magical spell concludes — in short, not pithily, I spent many moons under the spell of this library, as I have previously visited on Serial Two — perhaps one should read chapter two! But now I am having fun with you.

The trick is with Libraries, with knowledge, it is never certain, even in the grandiose facade of marble and pristine flooring — or not so pristine flooring now — I could spend a lifetime or a multitude there, yet if I never ventured daringly out amongst the starry crowds, disturbed or not, I could never hope to attain a fuller image.

It is fabulous to learn by the book, and it is brilliant to hold the dirt in your hand, but until you can somehow combine both and discover what lies in between, one is going to have a lot of rough and ungainly meadows,

You’ll only be contriving pretentious boundaries to a universe that laughs defiantly at the silly ways of humane eyes and thoughts — or whatever race this sightseer belongs to, methinks the toad! — especially the almost bipolar nature of yes and nos and absolutes before appearing or thinking of the fact.

But I rest my wee memory of a Sightseer’s venture here. Taking down a wall I have constructed myself in this serial between me and I and you! Just for a wee moment, so please do house me so! Trickster may be the good dub for my middle name — Oh, imagine my library card then!

Ta-ta-Now! Ever yours; The Doctor [Adams]

COME ALONG WITH THE DOCTOR’S NEWSLETTER

©Joanie Adams — Joanie Adams; Gift A Tea: https://ko-fi.com/joanieadamms

DO SHARE ADORATION FOR THE GLORIOUS ILLUMINATION-CURATED:

THE PREVIOUS SERIAL: The Good Clime Retrieves The Sunken Heart— Goodness And Wellness — Serial №IV:

The CURATION — THE FINE RABBLE’S PUBLICATION:

A MISSIVE ON SUICIDE — A PARABLE

As ever — we go, Dear Reader.