The Angle of Revelation

Morning arrives as dust, each particle a small rebellion against the darkness we've accepted.

Light catches the forgotten corners— books with spines of yesterday, a coffee cup that remembers warmth— suddenly they matter again.

We are all particles waiting for the right angle of sun to become visible, to prove we were here.

But the light doesn't stay. It slides across the wall, leaves us back in shadow, reminding us of the next morning.