He saw nothing

He saw nothing

Head bowed low

A furrow of concentration

Ploughing scars

Across a youthful brow

Reading all he could

Learning how to be

A study in appreciation

Of the written word

Each one

Savoured without exception

And little prejudice

Knowledge a goal

In itself

He was sure to find his way

As time passed

The ascent and fall

Light and dark

Moments of wonder

The darkening of days

The last bloom

Of summer

The passage of the innocents

The verdicts of the damned

He read the transcripts

Transcribed the texts

His head bent

In supplication

At the power of the word

As the walls came down

Around him

Every book burned

All history soon forgot

He remained

Unperturbed

Unmoved

Nothing would distract him

From the task

Of learning

Not the screaming

The dying

Or the yearning

A bookish man

Of piety and intellect

Who knew the words

But not their meaning

And though oft time

He paused

To glance at what might lie

Written

In the margins

Between the lines

He saw nothing.