RETURN, SPIRIT, TO THIS
lowly place. Come down. There is no path where you 
project yourself. Come down; from here you can look 
at the sky. From here you can begin to climb. Draw
back your song from the middle air where you cannot
follow it. Close down these shaking towers you have
built toward your vertigo. You do not know how to
bind your heart to the skylark, or your eyes to the hard-
ened blue hills. Return to the sorrow in which you have
hidden your truth. Kneel here, search here, with both
hands, the cat's craddle of your tiny distress. Listen to
the one who has not been wounded, the one who says,
'It is not good that man should be alone.' Recall your
longing to the loneliness where it was born, so that
when she appears, she will stand before you, not
against you. Refine your longing here, in the small sil-
ver music of her preperations, under the low-built shel-
ter of repentance. 

– Leonard Cohen; (Psalm) 16, Book of Mercy