Whisper upon whisper,
the final echoes from celestial womb—
once a furnace, now a soft glow,
dying rhythm on a cosmic breeze.
Hear the cadence of ancient breaths,
too vast, too warm, eternal and transient,
like heartbeats embracing the void,
threads of light unraveling their song.
A spiral of dreams in cobalt silence,
dancing light molecules, hymns entangled;
they grace the dark canvas,
mimicking the desire to be— to be remembered.
Through stellar fingertips,
float down ideas written in dawn's ink,
immortal in demise:
"The end, perhaps, is simply a rest,
an interlude before the distance awakens again."
Follow the rhythm into another realm: Mirstar's Lament
A glimpse before closure: Fading Embers