The books lie everywhere.
Some open, some shut with marks within,
and some simply closed, as if human touch
A mind is sensed. It could be if
all pages were read up to the point indicated
we could reconstruct something.
A personality would emerge,
one sitting atop a mountain, waiting
for the traveler to ask, or one
within a cloister, surrounded by structure
all looking the same.
We trust the most silent, impalpable voices.