Some Say In Ice

From what I hear, when your world falls apart, it sometimes looks like a glass chandelier crashing in slow motion to a cold marble floor—every hard, delicate piece following the same line downwards, striking, and breaking.

I also hear it can sometimes look like a slab of ice loosened from the roof of a speeding vehicle—one moment tenaciously grasping, the next moment free and flying spectacular summersaults, but following again an inevitable trajectory to the pavement and shattering destruction.

In any case it seems always that something crystalline is involved and destroyed, order reduced suddenly to entropy, the years of energy saved suddenly released into fragments that still glint and gleam but are nothing.