Qoheleth declared all to be

Vanity:

emptiness encased in

shiny superficiality,

marketed as meaningful,

but quickly forgotten in the glare

of that which is shinier,

newer,

and just beyond our reach.

Vanity, my name is Vanity..

until I learn my true name.

And that name can be learned

only

by leaning into the image of myself

in the mirror of a pine tree’s

sticky, sap-stained bark;

or in the mirror of a mountain range

where snow-covered peaks are hidden

behind winter’s-grey/golden clouds;

or in the mirror of a thousand soldiers’

graves at the edges of a

Pennsylvanian battlefield;

or in the mirror of flashing fish scales

or a red/yellow/blue/white supernovas

or in a drop of sidewalk rainwater.

There

I am, too:

in Meaning without words

in Reflection without plot

in Holiness without divinity.

And my true name?

My true name is that

I have

no name.