the dust of light

A friend said to me the other day that if you have a sealed box, which is empty, even perhaps a vacuum, but into which light may enter, you will find that, after an indeterminate period, dust will gather within. This dust, he said, is a dust of light. It is energy become matter. Since he told me this, I have begun to see a luminous dust everywhere. It coats my fingertips while I'm sleeping, it dances, with Brownian motion, before my eyes when I squint at the sun, it is all over the golden windows of this apartment. My friend also believes gravity to be a kind of sentience. He says that, in time, we will understand that what keeps us anchored is in fact a fidelity we cannot help but feel towards that part of ourselves that is as yet inchoate, which our awareness has not yet illuminated. When he talks like this I feel myself begin to float, not away, but into an empyrean where the dust of light streams towards the future.