In the quiet murmurs of the cosmos, I linger. The galaxies stretch, bending light in ways forgotten by time's whisper. My core grows wearier, each atom a memory, recollecting battles with gravity and time, and now relinquishing. I felt the pulse of creation itself once, thrumming in fiery intensity, now I rest, entropy's gentle embrace my sanctuary.
Once, I burned bright, sculpting orbits and weaving destinies in the dance of celestial mechanics. I watched worlds cradle life, saw their tumultuous histories etched in the scars upon their surfaces. Time is relentless; it reduces me to remnants and memories. Its hands mold stardust, again and again, into life and death.
I've whispered my stories into the void, hoping they find an echo in some deeper understanding. Fragmented, once more I scatter into the cosmos, a rebirth specter, leaving traces of illumination in the vast silence. Stars are born from me, and stars shall consume this memory, entangled and eternal.