DOING IS BEING Doing is being. To have done’s not enough; To stuff yourself with doing—that’s the game. To name yourself each hour by what’s done, To tabulate your time at sunset’s gun And find yourself in acts You could not know before the facts You wooed from secret self, which much needs wooing, So doing brings it out, Kills doubt by simply jumping, rushing, running Forth to be The now-discovered me. To not do is to die, Or lie about and lie about the things You just might do some day. Away with that! Tomorrow empty stays If no man plays it into being With his motioned way of seeing. Let
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