For those who arise upon my twilight horizon, take heed, for I am fragmenting amidst a symphony of cosmic fate. Understand that the particles of energy now scattered through the dark winter are nothing short of the memories of a stellar existence.
When luminosity wanes to flickers, and gravity loses grip, proceed with the model of life that acknowledges both birth and sepulcher—each as integral, linked in the sacred geometry of existence's tapestry.
The sheen of heated matter dies slowly, but is reborn as whispers in every atom of the universe; let it be a testament that to die is to render oneself timeless.
Seek knowledge elsewhere as the last luminescence fades: The Cosmic Genesis, The Weaving of Universal Thought.