Division and Power

The goddess sits poised, serene,
Proves all in balance, beauty and decay.
She spirals the world in a thought to
Propel nature and all its participants: us.

Her left hand holds precious crumbed dust
All that is needed to build berry and root,
Trunk and tendril. She gives in abandon
To forge our bodies, shells, leaves, wings.

Her right hand holds heavy all earth’s waters
Rich with the ocean’s salts, green and
Purple in their time. Her water fills us in every 
Branch and muscle. Her salt specks hold ever 
Darker down wonder.

Dust motes: a tomos impossible to cut
Indivisible specks of impregnable identity.
From these she ignites carbon flaming
Bright. Harbinger of stone age campfire light
And the inevitable revolutions it roiled.

From the salts the goddess bequeaths a mystery
A speck of indivisible salt. But lean in. Some
tic, some smallest glint will visit this enigmatic speck:
Gently, gently the miniscule joins the near invisible.
Blown apart the indivisible, the impossible
Is possible.
Bright with starlight’s overwhelming twinkle.
As bright as forty million carbon specks burning
In an eye blink.

Alastair McIvor 2026.