When iron hearts of stellar ghosts collapse, Their light betrayed by trembling inner strain, A whisper rips through cosmic time elapse, And pulses hum a sacramental pain.

The crust gives way—not out of simple death, But pressure's hymn unbound in sacred ire. This quake, a shudder wrapped in silent breath, Disturbs the cold cathedral of the pyre.

Yet Earth remains unshaken, unaware, That something once divine has split its vow. A prophet-star, magnetic, fierce and rare, Now burns where gods first learned to disavow.

So cracked we are, yet luminous we stay— Reborn each time the dark outshines the day.