From Beautiful Losers
by Leonard Cohen
The following was taken from the chapter A Long Letter from F.
The second paragraph was also used as the words of one of my favourite
songs (sung, apparently by The Pentacle).
Old friend, you may kneel as you read this, for now I come to the
sweet burden of my argument. I did not know what I had to tell you,
but now I know. I did not know what I wanted to proclaim, but now I
am sure. All my speeches were preface to this, all my exercises but
a clearing of my throat. I confess I tortured you but only to draw
your attention to this. I confess I betrayed you but only to tap
your shoulder. In our kisses and sucks, this, ancient darling, I
meant to whisper.
God is alive. Magic is afoot. God is alive. Magic is afoot. God is
afoot. Magic is alive. Alive is afoot. Magic never died. God never
sickened. Many poor men lied. Many sick men lied. Magic never
weakened. Magic never hid. Magic always ruled. God is afoot. God
never died. God was ruler though his funeral lengthened. Though
his mourners thickened Magic never fled. Though his shrouds were
hoisted the naked God did live. Though his words were twisted the
naked Magic thrived. Though his death was published round and round
the world the heard did not believe. Many hurt men wondered.
Many struck men bled. Magic never faltered. Magic always led. Many
stones were rolled but God would not lie down. Many wild men lied.
Many fat men listened. Though they offered stones Magic still was fed.
Though they locked their coffers God was always served. Magic is
afoot. God rules. Alive is afoot. Alive is in command. Many weak
men hungered. Many strong men thrived. Though they boasted solitude
God was at their side. Nor the dreamer in his cell, not the captain
on the hill. Magic is alive. Though his death was pardoned round
and round the world the heart would not believe. Though laws were
carved in marble they could not shelter men. Though altars built
in parliaments they could not order men. Police arrested Magic and
Magic went with them for Magic loves the hungry. But Magic would not
tarry. It moves from arm to arm. It would not stay with them. Magic
is afoot. It cannot come to harm. It rests in an empty palm. It
spawns in an empty mind. But Magic is no instrument. Magic is the
end. Many men drove Magic but Magic stayed behind. Many strong men
lied. They only passed through Magic and out the other side. Many
weak men lied. They came to God in secret and though they left him
nourished they would not tell who healed. Though mountains danced
before them they said that God was dead. Though his shrouds were
hoisted the naked God did live. This I mean to whisper to my mind.
This I mean to laugh with in my mind. This I mean my mind to serve
till service is but Magic moving through the world, and mind itself
is Magic coursing through the flesh, and flesh itself is Magic dancing
on a clock, and time itself the Magic Length of God.