I'm a social animal,
Albeit one of the least
Warmly social of my kind,
Produced by a universe
Whose only other signals
All say, "I don't want to talk."
Most of my kind ignore this
And talk to night anyway.
Talk to trees, beasts, and angels,
Invisible, us-like gods.
I'll admit I'd like to talk
With any, if the answer
Weren't another Bayesian
Prophecy of more silence.
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