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 thoughts 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.
I'm so glad I'm not the only person who likes this poem.
ReplyDeleteThat makes three of us then - the person I borrowed the book from had marked it.
ReplyDelete