liminal — the door in between

A poem

Photo credit: Pexels image by Roman Odinstov

You stand where things blur — between inhale and exhale, between leaving and arriving, where time forgets which direction it meant to flow.

It is not the past, not yet the future, but the trembling hinge between them — a doorway humming with almost.

The air feels charged here, thin as a held breath, thick as meaning.

Nothing is certain, and that is its grace — the beauty of not yet, the ache of nearly.

You could step forward, you could turn back, but for now you simply exist — a pause made visible, a threshold that listens for your next becoming.

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Source of inspiration: This piece explores that feeling of being neither here, nor gone, only the quiet certainty that something next is coming.