Perhaps, up in the heavens, a lonely star rages;
by Damien Marcus
With ancient fuel its body boils and blazes.
Light from this bright sphere of affable delight
Ripples and tears through our mundane night.
Clouds cannot behold the power of its blasting rays:
The powerful beams that energize Earth's counted days,
And the same heat that scorched the once verdant lands
Into the deserts that house none but dusts and sands.
Veracious is this heavenly ball of fire,
That feasts lavishly when its hunger is dire;
For the day that it breathes its very last,
It will end its being in a glorious blast;
A blast of unparalleled explosion,
That spreads throughout our cosmic ocean.
A fiery magnitude that swallows planets,
That even fellow stars sense its effects.
However, this "dead" star is truly not dead:
It is alive, and well—and reincarnated
Into a black void of utmost nihility.
This devourer, this uncanny entity,
This mystic form that consumes everything,
Yet it is composed of not even a thing.
Apollo's light cannot penetrate this blackness;
The light of a million stars is a mere brightness.
Wherever this celestial spectre treks,
Whether towards giants or trivial specks,
Nothing ever stands firm, nothing truly survives—
For this is the black knight that conquers and divides;
The bright paladin now the terrifying lord,
That ravages the universe with his sword.
Indeed, this entity is to be dreaded.
But fear not, for Life is still undefeated:
In the ashes of the explosions, Life exists.
Life there waits to be joyfully released;
As these clouds of dust accumulate and ignite,
They will bloom, they will rise and shine with a new light.
Novel, young stars will replace the obsolete.
Thus, this universal cycle repeats.
All die, all fade away—nothing remains;
Even the mightiest dragon will soon be slain.
Ah, the wonders of the night sky: what have you done?
Keeping me awake, when the stars are still not gone.
How radical my notions are! What oddity!
This effete body of mine will sleep, fortunately.