The songless depths of inky blackness stretch onward.
A single mote of light illuminating its cosmic backyard,
Ripples pulse through the metastatic core,
Iron propagating within the deepest store
Of fuel. Life ticking away with every passing moment
Like the timer on a bomb, or money being spent
Precious nectar going down the drain,
Yet there’s not a lick of pain
For when the clock hits zero
There will be no last-minute hero.
Photons erupting through the distant expanse,
Heat consuming everything in its rapid advance
Yet a vestige whirls so fast it seems serene
A glowing ember that survived this scene
The poles firing a magnetic blast.
Finality at last.
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