A whisper drifts where none can hear,
Through endless dark, so cold, so clear.
A star is born, a star will fade,
Yet space forgets the paths they made.
The comets dance, the planets spin,
Yet time won’t ask if they will win.
For light will stretch, and light will bend,
And even stars must meet their end.
But in the void, no end is true,
For dust becomes the cosmic new.
What once was lost, will rise, deploy—
A spark, a life, a distant joy.