
I was born among deep chaos, colliding galaxies, and dying stars.
There is only hunger and chilly silence—no house, no name, no reign of gold.
They labeled me a "rogue," a mischievous beast,
A ghost that escaped the terrible sway of the core.
Torn from cosmic rule, a titan
Raw jaws of gravity and light.
I am not a hunter. I do not pursue.
But I do not waste—stars drift close.
One approached, its heartbeat so intense that I gave it a single kiss before stealing its light.
A billion sky were illuminated by its scream.
In watchful eyes, a wound bloomed.
One man remarked, "The vacuum is moving," as the others looked on in wonder and fear.
I do not lament the stars I pull into, nor do I experience the same fear they do.
All I am aware of is the pull, the whirl, and the velvet nothingness that develops inside.
They will write about me in telescopes, data streams, and dashed hopes.
However, I continue to float through stellar foam.
A wide shadow without a place to call home.
I did, however, once hold a sun so tightly that I left a trail of light in my wake.


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