Master, they say that when I seem
To be in speech with you,
Since you make no replies, it’s all a dream
-- One talker aping two.
They are half right, but not as they
Imagine; rather I
Seek in myself the things I meant to say,
And lo! The wells are dry.
Then, seeing me empty, you forsake
The listener’s role and through
My dead lips breathe and into utterance wake
The thought I never knew.
And thus you neither need reply
Nor can; thus while we seem
Two talking, thou art One forever, and I
No dreamer, but thy dream.
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