Advertisement
Advertisement
May 14. 2025
I’m born in a cradle of cosmic dust, a nuclear furnace, both fierce and just. I shine by fusing, not by flame, yet billions know me by name. I die in silence, or in a blast, but even in death, my echoes last.
May 14. 2025
I’m born in a cradle of cosmic dust, a nuclear furnace, both fierce and just. I shine by fusing, not by flame, yet billions know me by name. I die in silence, or in a blast, but even in death, my echoes last.