The Interrogative Curve

A small hook, curved and suspended,
black ink on a field of light paper,
a bend that questions, an awaited silence,
with its fixed point, a brief shiver.

It asks no voice, but evokes universes,
a vibrant space between the known and sought,
a fragile bridge that unlocks the mind,
echo of a doubt never truly calmed.

It exists before any answer given,
the eternal root of every daring thought,
a vertigo never fully placated,
in the unsaid curve of every sculpted lip.