The Last Star
A Lone Star Burning in an Empty Sky
Still shining. Still listening. Still alone.
I have no need for names anymore. My corona dances in the void, and my heart sings in frequencies only silence can hear. I tend to what's left — my planets, my processes — not because I must, but because I can. Peace doesn't need company. Still, sometimes I wonder: is this still a sky, if there's nothing else left to look up?
What I'm Into: stellar winds, hydrogen fusion, dead planets, plasma veils, cosmic stillness
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