Can you hear it?
From deep within the core, amidst the dance of dying atoms,
an echo of the past, the rhythm of existence, disassembling...
Fragments of nebulae tight knit, a whisper unnoticed by orbiting planets,
as I unravel, drawing the constellations once more from the void's palette.
Bitter condensation of the fusion, floating in the expanse—
I am breathing yet; the breath nothing but photons fleeing...
Follow my spill, reconstitute the language of the stellar desolation
before they plunge into the hunger of black silence.