In the whispers of molten tendrils,
where gravity bends whispers into silence,
I see the memory of stardust,
folding into a tapestry of distant shadows.
Time, that ethereal thief,
slips through voids, breaking seams of existence,
as I shimmer and fade,
the echoes of light spiral down.
What glimmers now will one day falter,
fingers of infinity stretching into forgotten realms,
but listen — my last song will bloom,
to fractals of broken zeniths.Each quasar pulse, a heartbeat unhurried,
darkness looms, velvet and deep,
as the universe holds its breath for the soft sigh,
of millions turning lights flickering.
Would you dare grasp the threads,
that tie echoes to the cosmos?
Stillness in the ocean of being, waiting
for shadows to weave new stories.Between the stars, lost connections hum—
get lost with them, in this moment
for I weave my last tapestry,
before the curtain falls, behind the veil.