Fast food hurts the body, fast reading hurts the mind,
To get nourished, savour deeply, to the book, and yourself be kind.
Set artificial targets, all you want, like reading 50 books in a year,
But if a meaty book can't be skimmed, you'll have to skip it, I'm afraid, my dear.
Speed reading makes a nice cocktail, shallow knowledge, stirred with aplomb,
The book is supposed to stay with you, but the moment you've read it, it's gone.
A checkbox ticked, a trophy earned, it now adorns your bookshelf,
Pushed to a corner, gathering dust, as you couldn't make it a part of self.
As the year-end approaches, you are haunted, how many can you really get through?
The real question you should be asking is, how many can get through to you?
If reading it didn't change your thoughts or acts, wasn't that a waste of time?
If you ingested AI summaries or picked random quotes, was that a lesser crime?
Reading a book is like meditation, and reading a poem a form of prayer,
You should spend some time on each one, unravelling it layer by layer.
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