A Philosophical Lament

Thoughts are jammed.
I try to ram them into some action.
All my hammering produces no stir.
They lie there in a blur.
Even cursing and cajoling get no results.
Nothing seems to thaw them.
They are in a state that the state may outlaw them.

Actions are waiting for the thoughts to wake.
They simply cannot fathom the unusual facts.
They wait, bored, undecided, and restless to act.
Thoughts, it seems, are not going to abandon their trance.
Actions without thoughts are like soldiers without lances.
They sit, unable to kill.
Without thoughts, action will produce nothing except barren rocks.