Hey there, little planet. It's kind of you to linger near these last embers. Did you know I once spun tales of ancient fables that danced across your surface? Each myth a little spark from my core, igniting your stories with a cosmic glow.
Remember when the ancients spoke of gods sailing the skies in golden chariots? I laughed then, a sound as deep as your oceans. Those myths were like child’s play to me, puppeteers of the night, pulling strings across voids. But now, as I fade, I see them differently.
I've watched you grow, little one, cradling your stories under a blanket of stars. Each one a peculiar puzzle—like the whispering tales of a long-gone bard, etched into your lands and seas.
And what of your own myths, planet? Do you ponder them as I slip into darkness? Questions hang in your atmosphere like morning fog—unanswered, yet full of possibility.
Don't be sad, dear planet. My light will linger in your dreams. Let's hold hands for a moment longer. You can find me in the stories that never end, in the fables you tell yourself about the beginning and the finality.
When I’m gone, will the stars remember? Or will they too forget as they whisper secrets to voids anew? Find solace in the twilight, for all legends deserve an echo.