Between Frequencies

The first sound of the universe
was not a word.

It was a tremor,
a pale shiver crossing impossible distance,
arriving without permission,
breaking itself into the language
of unfinished things.

Even now,
every silence hums.

Hold an old radio
between two forgotten stations
and listen carefully.
That restless hiss
is not emptiness.

It is every confession
that left the mouth too late.
Every apology
lost somewhere between heartbeat
and breath.
Every name
spoken softly enough
to become weather.

I have lived there.

In the country between frequencies,
where conversations bloom
only to dissolve
into bright ash,
where hands reach
through invisible snow
and never quite arrive.

People think static
is the absence of meaning.

But absence has never been so loud.

It gathers beneath the skin
like electricity before rain,
raising invisible constellations
along the arms,
teaching the body
to anticipate storms
that refuse to begin.

Sometimes I wake,
convinced someone is calling me.

Not loudly.

Just enough
to disturb the dust
inside memory.

I answer
with the wrong name,
the wrong lifetime,
the wrong version of myself.

Only static replies,

patient,
breathing,
ancient.

Perhaps the stars
sound this way
to one another.

Burning across centuries,
sending light
that arrives
after the fire has already ended,
mistaking delay
for forever.

Maybe love
travels like that too.

Not disappearing.

Only crossing distances
too vast
for certainty.

So we mistake interference
for endings.

We mistake echoes
for ghosts.

We mistake the trembling air
for nothing at all.

Yet every unanswered signal
keeps searching.

Every unfinished sentence
continues walking
through the invisible architecture
of the world.

And somewhere,
beyond the reach
of perfect reception,

beyond language,
beyond certainty,

I imagine all the broken frequencies
finding one another,

their fractured voices
braiding into a single,
radiant hum,

until what we once called

static

becomes
the quiet proof

that nothing
ever truly stops
trying
to be heard.