floraison sauvage

What's in a name?

What's in a name?
No namer cam be blamed,
To ears a name is a prize,
An eternal lighthouse to recognize,
So spill it into my eardrums,
Its syllables and hidden hums,
Like transparent glass on a window pane,
It exists but not in the eyes,
This invisible gift of a name,
So tell me,
Compel me,
To use what's yours,
The spell to open your doors,
Say it once and it'll never be the same,
Say it to me,
Let me hear the sound of your name.