And in the fading luminescence, a whisper, like the last sigh of a celestial titan — the encroaching silence too vast to comprehend. Threads, intertwining, unraveling, atoms in recitation of a forgotten aria. "Do you hear it? The dissolution sings louder than creation, in the shrinking light, a symphony of voids."
Blazing heart, I once danced amidst celestial orbs, now I slip, a golden melody spiraling down the cosmic drain. Echoes, echoes of histories untold in the marrow of the universe. To weave, to succeed, yet all threads tie to a singular fate.
"What is this song? Its tune is foreign, yet I know it well, as I know the contours of my demise. Starlight, moonshade, evening star, the spin of destiny weaves cruel but fair." A shattering solitude accompanies this dimming glow — once a beacon, now an ember.
Beyond the celestial horizon, the voices unnoticed murmur. Listen if you dare. Or perhaps, understand the fabric, the intangible loom.