Visible Light

Gold slants through the window, catching what was always there— dust motes, small witnesses to hours nobody saw.

Each particle a mirror, spinning in warmth, climbing the beam like a staircase made of light and time.

I watch one drift sideways, pulled by air I cannot see, moving through an invisible ocean where everything is falling up, where stillness is only a trick of speed.

When the sun moves on, they vanish back into nothing, but I know now they were never gone— just waiting for light to believe them.