I can look at the title of a book
It doesn’t matter where I found it
A shelf
A desk
It still means what it says
Even drinking tea in a restaurant
I already know if I want to read it
Fiction
Non fiction
None of that matters to me
I can make it real if I want
If it has a mysterious way
Channeled
Left behind
Either way it’s some sort of path
But it’s my private confidant
I listen no matter which way
Learning
Rejecting
Nothing is the answer to anything
It’s only a suggestion or a haunt
You can’t sleep if it’s unclear to you
Accepting
Ignoring
That’s the choice of a new idea
It can either inspire or taunt
But I only have to read the title
I know
I don’t know
I don’t have to know to explain it
Because the title became my jaunt
And I’ll go wherever I feel like going