They were born in the early days of all things, when even space burned with white hot fire

They persisted, EM fields feeding their core the kaleidoscope soup of nameless plasma and shattered atom hearts and over strange aeons began to learn to shape the fields that fed and flew them

In time as the particle sea began to cool, they found refuge in brief stars larger than solar systems, cavorting and chasing in the balmy updrafts so hot that even helium burns

Now in this cold distant future, where stars are but unreachable cinders, they scrimp and conserve the relatively little time our sun has left to them, some two billion short years hence.

Pray for our star children, we cannot grasp even a fraction of the cosmic empire they have lost