The birds fluttered fresh, greeting the sun’s rising. Perhaps they had already been roused.
Light slowly grew above the horizon, rising. Only some could tell that it was not confined to just the illuminated. Shadows were cast as darkness tried to hide.
But even in the shadows could they see? Blues shined through the hidden places. Even the dullest of colors more clearly defined the objects caught in dark’s unlocked prison. A brilliant outline is made of the vicinity even without the sun’s embrace.
Light is cast in one direction but reflection disperses its rays beyond reach. The dark has run out of limits, for light has found it, made its home within it.
She aimed her camera and searched with her back to the sun. Others would damn it as wickedness, blasphemy even. But they could not see the treasures she found. While the critic searched for perfection, she danced around angle-to-angle to find the brightest of the shadow.
She saw light, not in the obvious. She saw light in the brokenness.
It would be a matter of time before light flooded over, saturating the space. But the brilliancy was seeing light in a whole new way, sprinkled in darkness.
It was a moment in time that stood still, moved not even for desire. The masses missed it, but she captured it.
She heard, but did not hear, their declarations of obscurity. For she knew she had found peace within her soul as the one who finds the golden light in unlikely places.