downhill glory

tumbling down the slope,
rolling faster than ever
before my eyes.
Fumbling from my hands
more fragile than ever,
ready to break.
mumbling in a corner
stammering and cluttering,
Oh these broken words.
wandering off to a distance
shivering in cold,
these brittle bones of mine.
am I ready to break ? or
am I ready to loose?
these castles of salt
that were built along the shores.