Dust

Actually a metaphor I invented several years ago. It just occurred to me again.

The world is a giant avalanche of rocks.

 

Some rocks are hard and refuse to give. These rarely lose size or shape, and they clash roughly with other such boulders.

 

Other rocks are intermediate, being scratched by the harder stones as they take gouges out of softer ones.

 

The weakest stones are ground down, more and more, until nothing remains of their original forms except chalky powder.

I feel so young, yet my own original form has already crumbled away into something I barely recognise.