The name at which one follows, is the name at which one is. When a one is called, it is no longer wandering. It is no longer lonely. It is no longer such as the one who called it. A name is the soul, the heart, and mind of something. Inanimate objects all have different names, just like all the others who have different names. They fall in things, the names. They fall in love, fall into darkness, fall into imagination, into dreams and possibilities, into the world of us bodies. We are the carriers of these names. For the name only wish to understand what it is like to be of a being. To no longer be wandering, floating through the world when they cannot interact with. To be part of another. Once a name had been summoned, called, it can see, it can touch, it can feel, it can love. It is a thing which names don't understand. They know when they are called, they know the life which they live within the being, but they do not know the leaving. The leaving when it falls into darkness. When they can no longer see, no longer touch, no longer feel, and no longer love. When it is lonely again, when the others names at which it loved don't exist. It is still in the being, it forever will be. Names don't come from anywhere, they don't go anywhere. Names are the mystery of all living, and of all dead. Names are what we call, are what we speak. We are the names, holding onto the memories, and emotions, and relations of what we have been called through. For when names are called, we are no longer. No longer the names at which we once followed, the name at which we once were.