You will be gone

You will be gone.
In all likely hood
there will not even be a street named after you
and even if there is, it too will crumble one day, the sign will break and no one will care.
Your cells will be in the soil
and the rain
perhaps the river of your life will be flowing through the veins of your descendants
but you, you will be gone
forgotten
beyond the knowledge of dirt and rain.
The curly hair of your beard will have rotted away.
No one will remember the way your hand moved in the air as you gestured
or the lilt of your voice,
the scowl you made after you bashed your thumb with a hammer
hopping on one foot in sympathy
then flicking your wrist.
No one will hear you sing your song again
You will never moan again, salaciously licking the creases of another body.
No one will hug you
or yell at you.
Your house will never fall apart again.
No one will knock on your door.
Soon, perhaps as soon as you blink your eye
you will be gone
melted back
into everything.