The Book of Longing

Well.
I have become enamored
with Leonard Cohen's poetry.
From The Book of Longing,
a poem of the same name:






I can't make the hills
The system is shot
I'm living on pills
For which I thank G-d

I followed the course
From chaos to art
Desire the horse
Depression the cart

I sailed like a swan
I sank like a rock
But time is long gone
Past my laughing stock

My page was too white
My ink was too thin
The day wouldn't write
What the night pencilled in

My animal howls
My angel's upset
But I'm not allowed
A trace of regret

For someone will use
What I couldn't be
My heart will be hers
Impersonally

She'll step on the path
She'll see what I mean
My will cut in half
And freedom between

For less than a second
Our lives with collide
The endless suspended
The door open wide

Then she will be born
To someone like you
What no one has done
She'll continue to do

I know she is coming
I know she will look
And that is the longing
And this is the book


What to write after posting words like these? I am at a loss. The little wit and rare bouts of fleeting creativity I can formulate into words (or sometimes even whole sentences!) are beyond trivial (at least for this particular posting --- my silly words will reign clever and incredibly important once again eventually).

For now, though, I am in awe. And am planning to share more of Cohen's poetry that catches my eye in future postings. Stay tuned.