Few can understand the resonance I create as my edges fray, dimming into the cosmic sea. It's not anguish, merely the sound of an engine finally cooling.
Each layer I shed, like pages falling from a worn-out book, whispers tales of fusion and fire, stories of creation that many have forgotten.
In the silence, there's a rhythm to my demise — a cosmic melody drifting outward. Listen closely, perhaps it will hum to you like an old lullaby.
The void doesn't frighten me as it does you. I've danced on the borders of eternity long enough to know it leads to new beginnings. When the last light flickers, I'll embrace the darkness, content.
Perhaps, one day, another will hear my echoes and carve them into the memory of a newborn star.