Read Voraciously

For the ones who lose and find themselves among the pages.

What started out as a poem I intended to be written for my daughter, who has shown a love for words and reading, ended up being not just for her, not just for me, but for book lovers everywhere.

There’s a certain kind of magic that lives between the pages of a book, the kind that asks nothing of you but your attention, and gives back pieces of yourself you didn’t know you’d misplaced.

I’ve always believed that stories find us when we need them most. Some arrive like soft candle light, others like a sudden storm. They teach, comfort, challenge, and, sometimes, completely undo us, only to rebuild us in a gentler way.

Each book I’ve loved has left a quiet mark, a new thought, a deeper empathy, a small shift in how I see the world. Reading, at its best, is a kind of becoming.

This poem is for the ones who read with open hearts, who travel without leaving home, who find pieces of themselves tucked inside the chapters of another’s story.

From one book lover to another, may you always find yourself among the pages.

I’d love to know, what book has stayed with you long after you turned the last page?

READ VORACIOUSLY

They will take you places
you’ve never been—
through wild landscapes
and quiet corners
of the soul.

With a heart open wide,
adventure can be written
at the tip of a sword,
or whispered softly
between turning pages.

Some hold power so great
they’ll fill you with color—
a kaleidoscope of feeling
that hums beneath the skin,
spilling over into who you become.

Read long enough
and you’ll find yourself shaped
by borrowed light—
a gathering of morals,
principles, and quiet truths
to carry you through the days.

Never judge one by its cover.
Keep an open mind.
Some stories are meant
to leave you uncertain—
let them.

And remember:
if joy doesn’t rise
from the ink and paper,
it’s all right to set it down
and reach for something new.