MY BOOKS CRIED OUT
my books cried out
for me to read them
but most unfortunately
I had to turn them down
they exclaimed
how good they were
propped full of
rich ideas and meanings
that in
the right hands, in
the right mind
could do
such great good
change the world entire
it was
with deep regret that
I declined their request
too little time of
life left to
make even most
modest inroads
and as for the world
as it spun its way
away from
precious idea, most
valued text
I wondered if not in its desire for
quick fix, snap
answer, instant
gratification
it did not need something
other, more
pure
stimulation
(philosophically, is it not
proof of
the pudding
we are
in
so little raw, true, real
but all
pixel and byte
Universe as
simulation)
and cry they did, my books,
when they took them away
since
the people have judged (well
coaxed by their masters)
there is nothing here
to be learnt that
might conceivably
bring any
advantage
nothing here, to see