In the heart of the cosmos, where light and shadow dance in endless waltz, an ancient voice echoes. I am a dying star, my body unraveling in a final, glorious spectacle.
Once, I birthed worlds, caressed by my light, each telling stories of their own. Now, I pen the last chapter of my existence.
The Sea of Sunflowers: The distant lands, where the azure sky kisses the golden sea, tell the story of my demise. Fields of sunflowers, reaching for the last remnants of my glow, stand as silent witnesses.
“Do not mourn me,” I whisper to the void, my voice a gentle caress. “Let my embers ignite the dreams of new beginnings.”
In moments of clarity, I see beyond the stars, into the hearts of those I have nurtured. A child on a distant shore collects sunflowers, each petal a memory of light, a fragment of my soul.
“Tell them,” I urge the winds, “that I loved fiercely, and that my heart, though dimming, beats still in the fabric of their dreams.”
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