What's in a name?

Her kiss. Her touch. Her name. This thing we have. The thing that inexplicably, unexpectedly existed before it needed a name. Name, name, name, name it into a pedestal. Explain it and say it. Name it all, everything. Damn you, name that feeling, that sense, that energy; name you and me and us and what you want, and how you want and what this is and what it will be and what you will be and what we can be and what we will be. Tell me what this is now that it wasn't before. Name the thing that makes it real. Tell me the true story of the origins of life on Earth and name the route that got us from there to here, then to now; us.


From nothing comes something. Names come after. After the longing of unknown cause, the wish never whispered, the thought never shared, the feeling that explodes, the experience that sparkles and blinds, the inventions, the creations, the ache that flares, the thing, that thing, the something that was not here before and now is here, big as the world and wide as the sky; the feeling of her as she steps close. The exquisite feeling of her arms around you. Her lips. Her strength. Her beauty. Her smile that beguiles. Her mind that intrigues. Her voice that enchants. Her words that captivate.


Naming captures. Holds. Forever. Even if what is named changes, evolves, morphs into something else, fades, wanes, disappears, goes extinct or magically reappears. A woman loves a woman. Naming a thing calls it into existence, calls it to attention, heralds its arrival and achievements and failures and its place, its right to exist -- and to be -- in our very human world.