Story of Isaac

The door it opened slowly, My father he came in, I was nine years old. And he stood so tall above me, His blue eyes they were shining And his voice was very cold. He said, "I've had a vision And you know I'm strong and holy, I must do what I've been told." So he started up the mountain, I was running, he was walking, And his axe was made of gold. Well, the trees they got much smaller, The lake a lady's mirror, We stopped to drink some wine. Then he threw the bottle over. Broke a minute later And he put his hand on mine. Thought I saw an eagle But it might have been a vulture, I never could decide. Then my father built an altar, He looked once behind his shoulder, He knew I would not hide. You who build these altars now To sacrifice these children, You must not do it anymore. A scheme is not a vision And you never have been tempted By a demon or a god. You who stand above them now, Your hatchets blunt and bloody, You were not there before, When I lay upon a mountain And my father's hand was trembling With the beauty of the word. And if you call me brother now, Forgive me if I inquire, "just according to whose plan?" When it all comes down to dust I will kill you if I must, I will help you if I can. When it all comes down to dust I will help you if I must, I will kill you if I can. And mercy on our uniform, Man of peace or man of war, The peacock spreads his fan. --- Story of Isaac - Leonard Cohen