Name(less)

They say

your name defines you.

It anchors your identity

to a certain array of letters,

words of power and strength,

adjectives and nouns

that describe who you are.

But, not so rare do we find

those who bear the titles

abandoning this precious gift.

They’d say,

“Someone else imposed it

on us. The nut does not forget

its skin, because it’s never

a nut in the first place.”

And they take up a name

they think is more fitting.

In the end, they are all just

hypocrites, because they never

appreciate the privilege

of being awarded something

their souls can

rightfully claim,

“Mine.”

Me?
I don’t have a name

from the start.

My parents did not even

have a chance to give me one

because they have long

been gone to the realm

across this plane.

How do I call

myself then?

“Me.”

I have never known

other ways to.

For sure, I’m not a nut,

because I don’t have a shell.

I have never

been the same.

Lack of name allows me

to become anyone else,

someone else,

because I can take

up any identities

and assume them.

For I am a vessel,

empty initially,

but I have grown

to be able to contain

anything filled into.

It is my gift;

what I have,

but others don’t.

I realized

to waste this ability

would be a shame.

Epiphany hit me like

an apple falling from a tree:

I can go beyond being

“someone”.

I can become

something else

this world has

never seen before,

beyond what people

are capable of,

beyond the limits

of human logic

and emotions,

something incorruptible

and everlasting:

a symbol.

“Me”

will still live on

to keep that symbol checked,

but people will no longer

remember him.

In his stead,

when they look at me,

certain feelings will creep.

I shall be like heights

to those who prefer to

stay on the ground,

like a rose to people

with good olfactories,

like a mirror that reflects

the light of the sun.

They can call me anything,

and so can you.

I may have different epithets:

a beacon of hope,

a watchful guardian,

a phantom in the night,

a knight of dawn.

But I can’t really care,

for I know who I am.

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