In the cradle of the cosmos, a fiery ember speaks,
"The end is but a pause, a cosmic jest,
My particles scattered, a symphony of silence."
Born from dust, consumed by light,
The whispered truths of a dying star,
Fashioned into a tapestry spun with dreams,
and woven with shadows.
"Embrace the void," it murmurs gently,
"For in the dark, we are all the same dust,
clinging to memories of warmth."