Billions of years ago, I was simply a cloud of stardust. I remember the excitement of first coming alive. My body condensed and then I was spinning. I accelerated and despite the blurred universe, the world had never been so clear. It was like the pieces of my soul were finally coming together. I felt on fire and for the first time in forever, I had energy to burn.

I watched the remaining dust around me coalesce into red-hot planets. Hundreds collided like a concerto of blazing explosions and rebirth.

A billion years later, all had calmed. Three planets remained, and I was their mother. They were my children, my darlings, my universe. I dedicated my warmth, my protection and my soul to theirs. Each one was uniquely wonderful. I named the one closest to me Ignis because he was my little fire – the smallest of my planets, but also the fiercest. He never cooled, forever a sea of magma and explosions. I named the second Tempestas because she was a vast sea of winds, thunder, and lightning that never ceased. She had a sort of splendor that made even the most frightening of storms beautiful. I called the last Carissime – my dearest. Her lushly green forests and meadows teemed with creatures. Unlike the others, she sprouted with life. If I could breath, she’d have taken my breath away.

Sadly, I now realize that nothing lasts forever: not life, not planets, not even stars. No matter how resilient, how beautiful, or how loved, everything dies. Some greet death’s embrace with a smile and open arms while others away with arms wrapped tightly around the slippery treasure of life. At 9 billion years old, my supply of fuel was exhausted, but I refused to die. I expanded, burning brighter and hotter than ever before.

I inched closer and closer to them, unable to stop. The planets began to change: Ignis faded, Tempestas steamed and quieted, and Carissime turned brown. Something was horribly wrong. Slowly, Tempestas’s vast oceans became sand dunes. Then, Carissime’s forests and meadows burned. Mile by mile, I grew closer, consuming one after the next. After an eternity of watching my children from afar, I embraced them finally, and then I was alone once more.

For billions of years, I’ve faded. I no longer have the energy to burn and my light is disappearing. I’m slowing down. Eventually, I will stop spinning and then nothing will hold me together. I will drift away and be free, and at last, I will again be nothing but a cloud of stardust.