When I Die

When I die,
my consciousness will cease,
my body will decay,
and all of the atoms
that once made me me
will come undone;
I'll be space dust,
once again.

The wind will carry me,
and scatter me everywhere,
like dandelions lost in the wind.

Some parts will stay home,
creating new flowers
and butterflies.

Other parts will
float out through
endless space and will
take me all the way
through endless time to my new life.

I'll visit alien solar systems
and will be critical in the
creation of
new stars and galaxies.

My atoms will visit
alien planets and
all of the other life forms
that they may harbor.

And my atoms
will maybe even
reach the ends of the universe.

This journey will be
so damn poetic-
at least,
until part of me becomes
part of the materials that
Make your condoms.

Then you'll screw me over
one more time.