.
I know there is more to life than what I live and see. It sometimes angers me that I shall not be able to experience it to the fullest. I mean there are people who do feel they have done so but I do not know how. Love and Life can never be over but it does end nonetheless with those of us who live and dream in the world of ifs. Then I read a poem like this. This poem may not seem like a love poem at first it gives off an unusual heat for all its apparent quiet and coolness. It seems as if nothing is happening in it, no passion, no ardor, nothing happening.
Emily Dickinson said: "If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can warm me, I know that is poetry!" Like the troubourdors of old it fuses personal love with a love that is beyond physical form.
The man and woman in this poem do not long for anything more other than what they have. They do not long to be anything other than they are Being where they are in the simplicity and fullness of the moment is entirely sufficient . Imagine the deep rest that is inherent in such a condition, how rare in this agitated world.
Bly's spirituality is uniquely his own, with influence from Sufi's Gnostic's , Jacob Boehme, Christian mystics and also Carl Jung. A personal sense of divine runs through his work. For Bly the world is full of presenses seen and unseen. But who is this someone in the Third Body that breath of love goes to feed? We do not know Bly says. Could it be the spirit of love that em compasses both of them. Yes this is my belief this a beautiful poem in which one feels Bly's essence of love but also Rumi's
A man and a woman sit near each other, and they do not long
At this moment to be older, or younger, or born
In any other nation, or any other time, or any other place.
They are content to be where they are, talking or not talking.
Their breaths together feed someone we do not know.
The Man sees the way his fingers move;
He sees her hands close around a book she hands to him.
They obey a third body that they share in common.
They have promised to love that body
Age may come, parting may come, death will come!
A man and a woman sit near each other;
As they breathe they feed someone we do not know
Someone we know of, whom we have never seen
"The Third Body" by Robert Bly from the collection "Ten Poems to Open your Heart" By Robert Housden.
