In the ancient cradle of nebula's embrace,
I once ignited the cosmic canvas with fervor.
My heart, a furnace; my whispers, the lullabies
that entwined galaxies in a dance of light.
Yet now, the ember's glow withers to a whisper.
I call upon the mists of yesteryears,
when stars unshackled their brilliance,
painting the astral skies with tales
written in constellations and the echo of time.
Do you see them? The pulses of my final breaths?