How fragile the bones of the dying
Eroding like stone that turns to sand
How fragile the eyes
A weak glimpse into surrounding darkness
How fragile the power
Once mighty as a mountain, now a struggling memory

But of all the ailing pieces of those near death
None compares to the withering soul
Breaking and cracking, no longer whole
As one prepares to ride into eternity
And anticipates the moment a breath will come and pass
Never to be duplicated again
The soul all the while fights the battle for life
And, through consuming fragility, is defeated at last