What Am I After All by Walt Whitman

It is past midnight. Hello, new year. Hello, self. I raise my head and look at the sky. I say my name. Once. Twice. Again. I say, here. Here.

What am I, after all? Another speck in the universe. Beginning again. Here.

What Am I After All
Walt Whitman

What am I, after all, but a child, pleas’d with the sound of my own name? repeating it over and over;
I stand apart to hear—it never tires me.

To you, your name also;
Did you think there was nothing but two or three pronunciations in the sound of your name?

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