Seminarian Poem by Malcolm Evison

A sanctuary, this studied room -
a sacred place without divinity.

Here he first began to scour
the weed-strewn paving of his mind -
thought-loads of words strove to devour
his piety.

The books, which thronged
his living space, provided sustenance -
a new found grace.

Alone,
a hermit walled in by abstractions,
striving to fill a god-shaped absence
with well-honed words.

Roomed in his study, studying his mind,
vacuity - that most tenacious weed -
has left him blind.