Dust to Dust - Trinity College Long Room, Dublin (29-30/10/16)

What is this quintessence of dust

Reiterated from shelf to shelf

Down an interminable hallway

Of darkened wood?

As they render, they float,

Hanging motes in the sunlight,

Disappearing into obscurity

And the penumbra

Of the embowed heights.

It is there he will be waiting,

A clotted shadow,

Until the light has faded

For fear of adding himself

To the floating film of the air.

He has only the name

The illustrious student gave;

Enough to warn off late night studies

Lest they become his midnight snack,

For the name upon their lips

Is that of Dracula.

The Unquiet Quiet by Lord Byron - The Wren Library, Trinity College, Cambridge (13/10/16)

An artist must suffer for his art,

That much I know to be true,

But there is only so much

That one man can endure.

My surroundings are exquisite,

That I also cannot deny;

The disparity of warm wood

And supple leather

Against the chaste white walls

Is a visual ballad in itself.

Even the way the outside world,

Shining forth through stained glass,

Paints its image in myriad colours

Upon the tiled floor

Stills my marble heart.

Yet despite all that

The page before me remains blank

By reason of such inconsiderate souls:

Philosophers, scholars,

Scientists, and judges

Holding court all around me

At the top of their lungs.

They may be far apart

And their arguments impassioned

(and as before, I am subject

To the stresses of my craft),

Yet I cannot help but feel

One should learn to temper one’s voice

In a place in which the sound

Of dust settling is a crime.

They expostulate, remonstrate,

Deprecate, and moan;

Never quiet, never happy.

But I digress –

How may I assist you today?