Cousins

Singer, how is it I occupy your voice? How is it that it sings of me? One day, I dreamt, we swapped voices. I sang with your voice and you were silent with mine. I sang, and you listened, and my voice watched over us both. I called you, cousin. We had always been close, without knowing one other.

Which one of us sang? What does it matter? We listened, and the bower of listening became a forest, and where there was shelter there was only wandering. I thought, I am looking for myself, but I was only looking for you.

You: the word was as open as our wandering. I asked you where you were. Here, you said, but here was everywhere.