You were born with no name,
and in such a way, you still remain.
The true you is nameless.
Who were you before you were given a name?
Who were you before time began?
Look deep within, you are still that.
The word with which you are referred
is only a concept of human creation;
the true you is beyond any such individual distinction.
Reality cares not for the names of things;
life and death make no such preference.
The wind still blows no matter what it’s called;
and the rivers still flow despite their provincial decree.
When the clocks are no longer wound
and time stands still,
the grass will still grow
and the birds will still sing.
All outward appearances
dissolve in the infinite fabric of time,
including all comforts, conveniences and contrivances
of your well-considered and genial life.
In the mirror of the infinite,
you stand shirtless.
The real you rests easy and unperturbed,
unaffected by any cultural tradition or societal facade,
unadorned by any garments, decorations or manufactured belief;
your True Self bears no mark of any such conceptualized and un-real things.
You are nameless.
Strip yourself of your costume of identity.
Smash your ego on the rocks of liberation.
Dissolve your false sense of self in the waters of truth.
Awaken from the dream of worldly illusion!
The poetry of Life is wordless;
it is wondrous and genial, perfect and complete
— even when it has no name.