Sitting there amidst skyscrapers it looks like a piece of history had forced its way through.

Memento mori engraved on the ramparts,

a dead language for a forgotten building from a bygone time.

Memento mori

you would never have guessed it was a library.

With spires reaching for the sky as if mankind’s own attempt to defy god

gargoyles grotesque twisting to stare down at you

An angel weeps watching from above

This is not a place for you.

It has no need for signs, or guards the building itself refuses your request.

You will die, yet the tomes in this building will live far beyond you.

The angel is weeping for us,

our discretion of the gifts we were given

the knowledge that we have forfeited

The sense of unknown is not for you to explore

Remember that you will die