Do not search for your name in papers,
nor your worth in seals and stamps.
Your true name was given
before you ever spoke a word—
in the moment your soul said “Yes!”
long before the body,
before the nation,
before language.
Your identity is not what the world sees—
but what your breath remembers
when night gives way to dawn.
It is a sound you cannot pronounce,
but your heart hears it
every time you do good,
when you forgive,
when you smile even through pain.
O soul,
have you forgotten?
You are not of this world—
but you are here to remind it
that something greater exists
beyond borders,
beyond documents,
beyond words.
Your origin is Light,
and your true dwelling—Truth.
Institutions may assign you a number,
the state may give you a document,
but you—
you must give yourself Love.
For without it,
you may have everything—
and yet lose it all.
Do not guard your identity out of fear it may be stolen—
but out of reverence
for the One who made you unique.
Do not flee into forms.
The soul does not dwells in plastic.
It hides in gentleness,
in silence,
in patience and in gratitude.
And when they ask you, “Who are you?”—
do not just give them a name.
Give them a smile.
Give them an act of kindness.
Give them peace.
For true identity is not filed in archives—
it lives in the hearts of those who met you,
in the children you taught goodness to,
in the time you gave,
not the time you took.
Rumi would tell you:
“You are the unseen hand of goodness among people.
You are the path—not the flag.
You are the call to return—to your Self.”
So go, O human—
and do not seek proof of who you are
in the eyes of authority.
Seek it in the eyes of those
who remember you by Love.