leonardcohenforum.com

You were right my dear
Yes I ended up alone
In a shack beside the ocean
With the pension money blown

Counting out my sins
By the seconds of my days
Raising my creaking limbs
Toward the morning rays

You were right to say it
You saw the future clearly
Without me living in it
I have needed to pay dearly

Measuring the water jug
Counting paces by the walls
The kettle sitting in the yard
Until the whistle calls

You were right, that I was certain
To be hurt in the collision
Of the things my heart demanded
And the border of my vision

I don’t see the ocean anymore
I am blinded to the waves
That propelled the ships beyond this shore
To the graveyards of the Slaves

No such fortune for this heart
Washed up on these rocks and stones
Not a danger now to anyone
Cast in silence and alone

I slowly turn the handle
Of the ancient coffee-press
Pour the scarce drops over
And kneel down to confess

Without a song, without a tear
Hope and longing each forbidden
I live in endless mercy here
Out where your light is hidden.

The more I read this poem, the more I see and the more I like it.
It is a good ol' rambling monologue of indifferent hopelessness; and yet I can still smile after a few readings.
I like all of it but I particularly enjoyed relating to this verse:

"You were right, that I was certain
To be hurt in the collision
Of the things my heart demanded
And the border of my vision"

I think many of us feel like this at times. Well said.
...and as I said, I like all of it.
I find your rolling, lonesome lyrical misery paradoxically uplifting ; Buddhaesque in fact


MatbbgJ

Thank you, Mat.
I am grateful for your consideration.
Good wishes, R

Richard, a lovely script on the consequence of consequences. Part way between just looking and meditation.
Being aware of a state of mind and being able to fully experience it. Yes mat; it does grow with additional reading.