Cartography of Longing: A Lexicon of the Unspoken #BlogchatterA2Z #poetry

A shard of light. Not yet defined. A tremor in the air.
Not quite a presence, not quite an absence.
Something between shadow and form, a whisper of existence.
A moment poised at the edge of articulation.
The shimmer of a thought, waiting to be born.
A pulse beneath stillness, barely perceptible.
A disturbance in the quiet, a shift in the unseen.
The breath before speech, the hush before a storm.

A pre-lingual hum. A quiver beneath the surface.
A vibration in the marrow of things.
The rhythm of something ancient, unspoken.
A flicker of motion in the darkness.
A sigh stretched across eternity, drawn thin with waiting.
The canvas blank. Except for the ghost of a color.
A presence without shape, a murmur without voice.
A dream glimpsed in the periphery of waking.
The first stirrings of something uncontainable.
A song unwritten, yet echoing in the bones.

A resonance in the void. Something stirs.
The universe adjusting itself in anticipation.
The tide pulling, though the moon is unseen.
The hush of an undiscovered longing.
A mapless direction, an impulse unnamed.
A thread woven between then and now,
Between what was and what aches to become.
A premonition of warmth, a cold fire waiting to ignite.
A spark hovering, indecisive, at the threshold of being.
The alphabet scattered. Meaning yet to coalesce.

A pulse. Faint. Erratic. The universe holding its breath.
Expectation, a stretched elastic.
A pause charged with the weight of possibility.
The echo of a footfall in an empty corridor.
Walls lined with memories not yet lived.
A half-remembered dream, slipping between fingers.
The scent of ozone before the storm.
A knot in the stomach. Unidentified.
A yearning for an unknown shore.
A longing that does not know its name.

The first tentative brushstroke.
A sound on the periphery. A shadow lengthening.
A flicker at the corner of vision, almost real.
The promise of a story untold.
The prologue waiting to unfurl its meaning.
A space between question and answer,
Stretching wide, inviting, infinite.
The stage is set. The actors unseen. The play unwritten.
A question mark etched in the ether.
A mystery contained within a breath.

A hand reaching out in darkness. A sigh.
Unburdened. Yet expectant.
The air thick with unspoken possibilities.
A fragile equilibrium. On the verge of tipping.
A silent scream gathering force.
A storm held in the cusp of stillness.
The promise of collision.
The birth of a new constellation.
A shattering that does not yet wound.
A falling that does not yet break.

A single note. Hanging. Suspended.
A prelude stretching toward resolution.
The beginning. Unfurling. A nascent bloom.
Hesitant. Vulnerable. The first breath.
A gasp. Of anticipation. Of what might be.
The void pregnant with form.
A silent explosion. Rippling outwards.
The dawn. Not of a day. But of a connection.
A fragile thread. Unspun. Yet strong in its potential.
A bridge not yet walked, yet already present.

The overture begins. A dissonant chord.
Promising harmony. Eventually. Perhaps.
A flicker. In the deep. A sign.
Unmistakable. Yet elusive.
A whisper from the other side of silence.
A movement through an unseen current.
The journey starts. Without a destination.
Only a pull. Inexorable.
An orbit forming, unseen but certain.
A force unnamed, but undeniable.

A crack in the mirror.
Reflecting nothing. Yet promising reflection.
Soon. Very soon.
The stage awaits its drama.
The heart, its first beat of recognition.
The world, its first taste of this particular form of entanglement.
A waiting. Immeasurable. Infinite.
A prelude stretching beyond measure.
A silent contract with fate.
A pact signed in the language of the unseen.

The prelude to the storm. Or the calm.
Or both. Intertwined. As always.
A door slightly ajar.
Revealing only shadow. But the promise of light beyond.
Or perhaps deeper shadow. The choice is yet to be made.
Or perhaps it has already been decided.
In the silent language of the universe.
A whisper before the echo.
A tear unshed, yet fully felt.
A weight pressing forward, toward release.

A held breath.
The moment before the plunge.
Into the unknown depths of feeling.
The last moment before transformation.
A threshold where past and future collide.
A balance before the inevitable tip.
A space between knowing and unknowing.
Between surrender and resistance.
Between solitude and connection.
A liminality of infinite weight.

A blank page.
Waiting for the ink of experience.
A silence so profound
it screams of what is about to erupt.
A stillness vibrating with the need to move.
A tide waiting to break upon the shore.
A wave holding itself before collapse.
A universe waiting to expand.
A voice held in the lungs,
before the first utterance.

A single step forward.
Into the vast expanse of possibility.
A breath held too long. A heartbeat missed.
A hesitation, fragile yet unbreakable.
The threshold between knowing and not knowing.
Between existence and emergence.
The weight of absence pressing against the ribs.
The possibility of meaning, still unformed.
A name unspoken, waiting to be claimed.
A sound waiting to resonate.

The music before the first note.
The pull of a tide yet unseen.
A hunger undefined.
A longing without a name.
A constellation that has not yet found its stars.
A collision of silence and sound.
A dance between shadow and light.
A language unlearned, but deeply understood.
A call waiting for an answer.
A question seeking its echo.

Not just a beginning,
But an unfolding.
A becoming.
A slow exhale into the unknown.
A promise whispered to the void.
A story waiting to be told.
A journey waiting to be taken.
An embrace waiting to close the distance.
A word on the tongue,
Before the voice dares to speak.

#Poetry #AbstractWriting #Longing #UnspokenWords #PhilosophicalMusings #MetaphoricalJourney #LiteraryArt #EphemeralMoments

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