“A man and a woman sit near each other, and they do not long at this moment to be older, or younger, nor born in any other nation, or time, or place. They are content to be where they are, talking or not-talking. Their breaths together feed someone whom 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 made a promise 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.”
~ Robert Bly
When we first met again,
we couldn’t stop laughing.
It never ends, we never stop –
the stories we dream up
all turn out the same.
Nothing shall remain, and so
we laugh – there is no better option!
We say that we came a long way
to meet again, and yet we’ve
never truly been parted.
When this sinks in, I know
who you are, you know
what I am.
we have no idea, and so
sometimes we just have to laugh.
It’s not as if we’re strangers to ourselves —
we’re stranger than ourselves, born happy and free
just so we can freely be together, waking together
at the same moment in the middle of the night,
and both of us breaking out laughing . . .
Darling, you put your hand on my heart
and the tiny laughter in your fingers
brings laughing tears to my eyes,
these open eyes of a love that
leans to kiss itself into some
deeper laughter still.
This laughter is the third body
we’ve been feeding, but honestly, Love,
we never can say who’s feeding, nor
who is being fed, and so, just so —
we burst out laughing
all over again!