A Castle full of Books

Courtesy : ArchitecturalDesign 
Over the hills and above the winds, far beyond the citadels of heaven. In a land of transcential tranquility and ever lasting peace lies my perfect little castle. Up in theses heavens of mind, through giant wooden doors and winding paths ever so long stands my perfect little castle. Over the lush country meadows and overlooking celestial gardens stands my perfect little castle. One that is made not of the finest granite but yet is embellished in celestial opulence. Casted in iron and furnished with english brown oak, smelling of the sweet rustic aroma of aged paper and ink. In wooden shelves so high and written works so mighty, stands clinging to each a wall, a million books and its eternal thoughts. my perfect little castle, abode to my perfect little dream.
Show you around this magnificent castle in my dreams I shall, but of all the rooms of one is all I ever dream. Past the grand halls and its antique chandeliers, past the winding stairs and the dimly lit path ways, lies the room of my dreams. With ceilings so high that the stars could peek through and windows through which clouds could come and go. On its windows lashes the rains of many years and in its hearth kindles the great fire of knowledge itself. Smelling of paper and ink, the musk of the intellectual heart and filled with aroma of the wisdom of all ages.  In its centre amidst the many piles of books lies a little chair, one that is cosy and one that is warm. It is here where I sit and bask in the glory of my splendid dream. Sitting there with a steaming cup of coffee at my arms length, a book in my arms and cuddled into the heart of the cushions is I.
There are tall wooden shelves everywhere, each with a million books and ladders that can reach the skies. With a mahogany desk for me to write and many a quills of thousand plumage for my thoughts to flow through. With the flickering light of my hearth I read, like in the time of a greater awakening. When giants of words roamed the land and ideas with wings began to fly. This is where I place the fireman’s nightmare, this where I dream my dream in a time in past when many a legends graced the the land. This is my dream, my perfect dream, my dream of my  perfect little castle. 
This is my dream, my perfect dream, my dream of my perfect little castle, little castle of the books.

As part of IndiSpire : An initiative by IndiBlogger

The castles of greed…

Stand they tall on the face,
Of all good and all that is moral.
Stand they with indiscriminate disrespect,
off all pride the papers bring
like the dead, they fear to feel,
Thinking in shades of darkness.
With no furore they break coffins,
Open the vaults of doom for pennies and dimes.
Heart they have lost to concrete jungle.
With life so fast they doth not think.
Like roaches they spread the streets,
Running blind and thoughtless.
Doom they bring upon them and all.
Heard of no responsibility but to churn gold.
A life of rot and no foresight,
Cards need not tell what tomorrow hosts.
Bring down the chapels of greed,
Bring down the priests with no mercy.
Let not our tomorrow be ruined at the hands,
Of creatures of vice, devils incarnate.
Bring them not to the gallows they made,
Lock them not behind the walls they build.
Bring them to light and bring them to love,
Bring them to the world they destroyed.
Strip them of the coats and medals
Strip of the evil instruments of deadly sins.
Change them, make them see,
Give them a chance to set it right.
They are lies and they are sly,
They can out do the chameleon with ease.
Trust them not till they act,
For greed is too evil to leave so soon.
The castles of greed, proud and tall.
The castles in nations of meniality.
Bring them down and set them right,
The beacon of a newer tomorrow.
          Rupertt Aryeen Wind