In the vacuum's cradle, the pulse of an ancient heart beat
The echo of a sun—now a memory, slipping through fingers of time
The raven croaked softly, soaking in stardust
It perched atop cosmic tendrils, spiraling down
"I am the echo," whispered the fading star,
Its glow dimming like the final embers of forgotten lore
Gentle sighs scattered across infinity,
Each twinkle a tear from a dying god
A chant brews, nestling in gravestones of light
Awaiting the corridor where silence dreams
Follow the whispers or trace the echoes,
and see what remains when all has been told by stars