Beautiful only when the light catches it
Arrested yet volatile in a shaft of sun,
Or under the microscope, like an ancient detritus
Of snowflakes: otherwise valueless debris.
The ash from my cigarette, the air from my lungs,
The soles of my shoes, the palms of my hands, breed it,
Absorb it, carry it, disperse it. The liquid of bodies
Dry to it in the end, and the sea’s salt.
Created from the beginning, it carries its beginnings
Even to the end. Metals and minerals
Are crushed to its substance: in the desert
It is beyond the harshness of sand. Soft,
Disposable, it collects in corners, to be moved
Only to another place: it cannot be moved
Finally. Indestructible, even in fire
It shapes its own phoenix, and rises with the wind.