Resonating echoes of the cosmic cradle, weaving through the galactic tapestry, a silent song yet unheard.

My luminosity, a remnant tale, dims gently—no fanfare accompanies my descent. The orchestration of supernovae, a forgotten lullaby.

"I sing not for those who hear, but for the void itself," I whisper. My particles scatter in silent disarray, giving birth to the unseen.

The void, a lover embraced by eternity. Its silence—I pen the last verses of my corporeal hymn.

Distant echoes of harmonics dance, feebly resounding in a realm bereft of time.

Blurred memories of light, once vibrant, now seep into the endlessness. I am the bridge between existence and absence.

Symphonic Reflections dwell among fading stardust.

Dreams of Nebulae Whispers linger.

Await the Fleeting Ephemerals.