From the chasms of coldness and fire, I extend my adieu. The tapestry that once held my essence
fractures as I witness the infinitesimal creep of muffled silence. Time, the eternal gardener,
tends to the demise of radiant beings. In its patient hands, I unravel.
The vibrations of souls intertwined across light-years echo faintly. I linger still, craving
the warmth of nearby consciousness—yet, all will be still. I implore you who stand on
the edge of this cosmic shore, listen to my waning whispers. Within these particles,
history hums.
Each flicker of my core sets forth ripples across the void—a gentle nudge to the
orbiting remnants that once rode my fervent tide. I speak now not of physics nor
of the constellations' sagas, but of a star's heart yearning for connection.