Queuing the Doing

QUEUING THE DOING Who would care what people write It’s what they really do that matters Despite the fancy poetic metaphors Nor thinking it may give one pause Fearing one’s words are all in tatters Actually, it’s self-delusion and trite Who might care what people think In deference to those that really do Private thoughts have little traction Unless they’re translated into action Which can achieve a different view It’s better than a mere nod and wink Who then can care what people say Lots of babble, meaning very little An action speaks louder than a word Whatever may have been inferred The spoken word can die in hospital But if whispered, they just blow away