Illuminated
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In garb drab and cold, cold room
a hand dips brush in gold
transforms the velvet vellum smooth
to story, lovely told
head bent low in candlelight
his hunger never fed
for though this scribe of God has food
to gifts of art he\'s led
notes not he the winters chill
as he draws vines and flowers
concentrating in such depth
his prayers are for hours
that he may stay in his small cell
and finely draw the letters
a lifetime wrought in colors
he notes not his lifes fetters
a hundred years, a thousand years
this monk without a name
will be adored just for his art
that honored his God\'s name