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I’m not dust.

Dust settles into every crevice but remains largely unnoticed. It’s comprised of debris; dead skin, dirt and so on. Nothing significant or distinctive.
When the light of dusk shines in through windows, dust looks so beautiful dancing in the glow. But when that light is gone, the dancing fades and the dust just settles. It’s no longer a miniature spectacle, and you begin to feel appalled when you think of its components.
I don’t want to settle into the seams between the boards of your life, only to be swept up and shook out the door. I don’t want to scatter aimlessly on objects but when I build up enough you think I’m filthy and brush me off.
I’m comprised of more than just skin and dirt. I am significant and distinctive, I won’t only be noticed in the catches of twilight. You can’t brush away what I have worked so hard to create. I’m not dust, I won’t settle.