Ordering The Nomenclatures Of Existence Poem by Patti Masterman

It's always their names we fall for first,
The syllables slide convincingly enough off our slick tongues;
So sure that 'Paul' or 'John' or 'Tom' must hold the hidden key
To all the universe of unbidden, waiting happiness.

But how could we ever suppose to unlock ourselves with anothers name-
Bestowed by heaven's grace or earth's folly, by persons unknown,
(Whose names could no longer matter now, if they ever did) -
A consonant combination to reveal our heretofore undisclosed astrology,

A natal history, of well-lettered copulations; a square dance
Between archaic tongues and modern metered intonations,
Enclosing entire generations of scrolling hand-me-down names,
Something almost like a secret society, if only we could decode it.

Some wish-fulfillment must have been at work behind it all;
If I longed for a 'Joe' one soon appeared, or if a John was required,
The wait was never very long. Too late, I discerned- though the names
Changed often as I required it- the organisms were all alike, almost to a fault.

Something in my program must have been the matter,
Though I could never have admitted this to myself; at the basic core
Every individual, whatever the title they carried, was no worse-
But certainly no better- than any other; and so I sadly gave up my religion of name.