Master, they say that when I seem
To be in speech with you,
Since you make no replies, its 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 thoughts I never knew.
And thus you neither need reply
Nor can; thus, while we seem
Two talking, Thou are One forever, and I
No dreamer, but thy dream.