The Name

What would you say to me
If I told you that all things
have a name?

A name, created forever ago-
A name singular, secret and sacred,
A name that grants form?

What if I told you
That if you cried out
The name of the moon,

You could bathe at midday
under its dappled falling shine;
taking in its light?

That if you called to the skies,
You could surround yourself
With a span of azure infinity,

Paint sun-songs with hidden words,
Or build a house of clouds while
floating in blue nothingness?

To think; You could merely utter
The name of oceans - That
vast implication; You could

Summon distant, breaking shores
for your own inspection and approval-
to satisfy the merest curiosity?

Would you say it was fantasy?
Something august to ponder;
And then regretfully forget?

That to guide a symphony of creation
with mere words and intention
Is a blasphemy?

Or maybe you would think it over -
And softly, sadly say,
"I could never..."

But what if... what if
I gently spoke to you the name of love,
Tender yet bittersweet?

Would you scoff at my audacity,
To arrogantly manipulate its meaning
by not letting it go free?

Or would you see that sadly, I'll
never be able to find the name
for what you mean to me?