In the tapestry of whispers, a name is scribed,
Each letter a note in the symphony of life,
Echoes of ancestors, dreams of the unborn,
A melody of existence, a dance of the self.
From the first breath, identity takes form,
Carved by whispers of lineage and lore,
A journey through the heart, the soul’s true north,
Names as beacons, guiding us forth.
In the mirror’s gaze, reflections unfold,
Shadows of who we were and who weâll become,
A name evolves, yet remains the same,
The essence of self, untouched by time.
Names, like stars, illuminate the night,
Shining through the darkness, a beacon bright,
In the endless dance of identity, we find,
Ourselves in the whispers, echoes, and light.