I remember a story about a star. I remember the color of the magenta star as it pulsated and lit up the night sky, the eminence of the star was known to every celestial body around it, from the constellations to the dust clouds and the comets in neighboring galaxies. I remember that this star was the envy of the night sky and that every galaxy wanted this star. Its beauty was unmatched throughout the heavens. The color of its core was the brightest of lights.
I remember that this star was noticeable from anywhere on Earth. Everyone could look up and romanticize its incomparable beauty. This star gave life, this star gave warmth.
As I recall, the star shone for many a-time, and the trace of its beauty reverberated from leagues away from its source. Unmatched beauty. Undisputed glory. Unfading brilliance. Untarnished fame from sky to sky.
This star shone for a long time, and lived its life in the icy cold unknown. In its later years, the star was no longer envied. Its warmth was all but comforting, and the neighboring galaxies outshone its brilliance.
The star, just before its evanescence from the night sky took its last remorseful gaze on its galaxy. Who would remember this star? Growing ever colder, and more alone now than ever, the star imploded – creating a massive hole in the night sky.
