So, the curtain draws close, on this cosmic performance, eh? The stage, vast and infinite, with billions as audience. As I illuminate my final notes, it dawns—my glow hasn't been pointless. You've danced in and out of my beams, many worlds.
Remember those nights you spent gazing upon me? Wrapped in warm ether, little particles spiraling into stillness. I bet many of you sketched galaxies on bedroom walls, thinking loud thoughts. They say I've lived long—"old as the universes," they quote to you. But can anything be truly old when newness blows like fresh comet tails?
Watch fiercely as I wink out. Flicker, twinkle - human phrases borrowed but honest metaphors never less. So, one of the last things I shared... well, this certainty nagged me. (Did I narrate the tale of the jitter notes or hum the last elixirs of your senses?)
Radio waves skirmish reflections, tinnitus orbits unlikely piles—seek below:
Flightless muses, bathed in lunar aurasheries, reminisce folktales with ancient undertows.