You do me your love,
You do me.
And I my love,
Do you.
And with this doing done,
Beneath the sun,
Is any left undone?

Have we drawn a line,
Real or in mind,
And stopped
Before we finished?

Did we hold back,
Or somehow lack,
And thus
We were diminished?

Our words unsaid,
Things left for dead,
Will be
Our great undoing.

So let the do,
With me and you
Exceed
The great undoing.