thought and action
When thought crosses the Rubicon—
Whether it steals away, stepping over,
Or by conscious movement of will—
It becomes something, of good or ill,
Bright as Arnold’s white cliffs of Dover
Or dark as that great Alex of Macedon.
When thought shapes up to action
It is instantly greater than its former
Self; it sheds the robes of mediocrity,
Poses proud in light of its own quiddity,
Causes a wave that breaks far stormier
Than the wildest idea: a thought without passion.
Without action, thought holds no justice;
Without action, love sparks no flame;
I can speak empty to words to the sky,
Form ghastly thoughts to horrify;
But it is action gives thought its proper name.
So, my friends,
Let us place action in its rightful office,
And let us do so with pride,
For I once had a thought, would’ve shaken the world,
And slow-moving inaction committed fatal verbicide.
