At last

I'm going to be a face in an old photograph

I'm going to become a memory 

And then like fog dissipates once the air heats up again

Then I will be too far from the family tree for my family to remember me

I will be the owner of ancient objects exposed in a museum

I'm going to be dust  and all my grey matter will be eaten up by nature

I will be a wave crashing into the shore and become part of the sand

I will be the air surrounding the earth

Invisible and odourless 

I will be the people 

The birds the sunrise, the flowers growing wild

The music and the laughs 

I will become the universe, at last