As I peer through the eons of light,
there lingers a sadness among the supernova echoes,
like the fading cries of a wanderer finding home.
I remember when I was young,
cradled in the arms of nebulous chaos,
birthing distant worlds from my luminous core.
But age is relentless,
my scars become memories,
my brilliance the quiet aftermath of radiant silence,
looping in an orchestration of cosmic rebirth.
When the galaxies align with my heartbeat,
do they ponder their temporality at the edge of my flame?
A loop of stars in continuous waltz,
reciting the tales of the past to forge the future.