Dust

Crushing the eggshells.
Watching them crumble through my fingers.

I peer into your steely blue eyes.
And catch glimpses of fire.

Flames of your spirit.
Dying.

Fear engulfed by resolve.
Resolve overtaken by fear.
Strength suppressed by frailty.
Frailties shattered by strength.

Grinding the eggshells to powder.
Watching it blow in the wind.

And I blow to help it along.
And wonder why I miss it so.

Flames of my spirit.
Dying.