The implicit meaning of ‘the underlined part’

The implicit meaning of ‘the underlined part’

The passage below is from Fathoms: The World in the Whale Hardcover by Rebecca Giggs.

For the longest time when I walked down Francis Street, I would look up to the place in the sky where the whale once waited for us. There’s nothing there now, save for atmosphere. After the rubble was carted away, the site below lay bare, a

rectangle of smooth sand, yellow and uniform. Do you also recall hearing this? — that sand isn’t what’s recognised as a substance. It’s a scale. Any matter can become a sand if it’s ground right down. Glass, stone, bone, silicon. When every object is forced to self-same size, nothing retains the capacity to be divisibly miraculous. The numen loosens from the particles, particular on a fingertip, then identical in a dune, and what magic persists drifts into our perception of supra-natural forces. Which is to say, that magic resides in a feeling of duration; the haul of a future that’s already set to work decomposing us, scattering our knuckles, our ankles, our littler nodes of cartilage, out to the wind.

About before the underlined part of the passage, I read it as follows:

The author visited the old WA Museum building on Francis Street where the memory of the skeleton of the Blue Whale remains in her. Here on an empty ground with only sand, she drifts into some philosophical reminiscence. Sand is not a substance but a measure of unit since every material once ground becomes the same indistinguishable sand.

(Can you agree with my reading?)

Now the underlined part is as vague and mysterious as the “Zen sensibility” of my last thread.

Let me explain my understanding of this part.

(When every object breaks into innumerable sands, each of sand lost numen of the original object, that is the spiritual force, especially when it’s particular on a fingertip. (Why ‘particular on a fingertip’ I don’t know.) But the magic, that is the spiritual force or numen, does not totally disappear. The remaining magic moves into our consciousness that perceives supra-natural forces. And it feels to gain its persistent residence but the haul of a future, that is fleeting time, makes us grow old. As we too irreversibly inch toward death and becoming sand, eventually Everything becomes sand and the magic completely disappears.

(Can you agree with my could-be-a-wild-guess reading?)

Thanks in advance.