Holy is your name, holy is your work, holy are the days that return to you. Holy are the years that you uncover. Holy are the hands that are raised to you, and the weeping that is wept to you. Holy is the fire between your will and ours, in which we are refined. Holy is that which is unredeemed, covered with your patience. Holy are the souls lost in your unnaming. Holy, and shining with a great light, is every living thing, established in this world and covered with time, until your name is praised forever.
Cohen, Leonard. "43" Book of Mercy. Toronto: McClelland & Stewart Inc, 1984.
This is so beautiful. My new mantra!!
book of mercy is one of my favourite books of poetry. it's great companion to death of a lady's man. it's like they chart a journey - of faith? of doubt? - or a pilgrimage. the language is richly [old] testamental and liturgical/ high priestly. book of mercy uses those rhythms and images beautifully, and engages with them passionately.
of course, i also think his the beautiful game and beautiful losers made a great pairing.
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