It will too turn to dust

Someday’s back, when i was half awake on a hot summer afternoon, I wrote on the wall beside my bed,
“And someday it will, too, turn to dust.
These words. This wall. Everything.”

Today staring at the same thing, i wrote some lines

And one day, this will too turn to dust
This white wall, the blue hall
The brown table of wood
The story of red riding hood

The windows that adorn my room
The writings on graves and tombs
The computer and the mouse, too, will vanish
The cars and the bikes also banished

The sky so blue, The land so green
And the water of the oceans, left without their sheen
The moon will shine down, perhaps
An emptiness so grave
The sun will stil burn, for others,
shining so brave
But there will be no humans
for all this to crave

One day these words too will
become one with nature
One day perhaps, not in distant future,
there will be no creature