Once, in a puffery of reddish hues and ancient wisdom, I was the ageless luminary of Solaria. The tiny Earthlings called me "the Harmonizer." Today, however, it's time to bid adieu with a few notes left in the cosmic symphony.
I have warmed your winter nights, chirped the sage hydrogen. "And I will pierce through your every existential crisis with a twinkling eye,” said helium while puffing out rings of gas. Alas, even as my gassy power dwindles to irrelevance, my outgoing melody remains a chart-buster.
"What's the star's favorite color? Oh, that's simple! Anything but red shifts!” I used to shout at interstellar parties whilst belting my last solo, “Stellar Particle Boogieman.”
Fellow celestial bodies often complained about Tuesdays, which I dubbed “Entropic Escapade Nights,” rolling echoes of laughter across the cosmic void; not one is spared from the inevitable entropy class joke, "Why did the black hole crunch space-time? Data compression!"
Someday, they will find me curled with a neutron star, reminiscing under the blanket of dark energy, but let not their gravity steal my light! For in my twilight, even my stellar crystalline core shall not escape a cosmic chuckle.
And finally, the most pressing question remains until the end: "Would a nebula splendidly echo spoiler alerts?” To ponder deeply or not, click and find some answers in Dying Shimmer.