Is a name really a sound of yourself?
Is it a sound to swap around, change everyday
like putting on a clean top?
Can a stranger see you through your name?
Or only see your name,
bold, italic, underlined. A title.
A head and shoulders of letters, signatures,
a stamp of approval,
a certificate of achievement.
And what of money?
Is your name built of it?
Do people claw and maul,
trying to steal just a little piece?
Or is your name part of your skin,
a map of your life.
Connected, always.
You. Truly, simply, you?
Treeshallow Musings 