Only One Last thing to Do

When words become dust that the wind blows away,

and when spoken admirations are all but superficial confessions,

there is but one last thing to do.

There are no more words to be spoken,
too much have already been said.

If the greatest mystery is the silence that sleeps,

and if the largest secret becomes the consuming fire,

there is but one last thing to do.

It was wrong to have even kept it hence,

too much have already been lost.

When actions become routines of passion,

and if hands and feet are all but waves blown by the sea,

there is but one last thing to do.

However, in the end, you only think that there is but one last thing to do.

Just thinking.

The last thing to do, is not doing anything at all.