Dust

Someday we will all be dust.

Our earthy remains lying in coffins,

entombed for eternity under crumbling headstones.

Our words, edges curling and paper yellowing,

sitting in museums.

Once new objects rust and pale,

on the shelf at the antique store,

collecting dust as the years pass by.

Some of us will make it into the history books. 

Most won't. 

A few will wish they hadn't. 

All our hopes, success, and desires,

all of our failures, regrets, and mistakes,

they all fade as we do,

as we turn into dust...