Billions

Billions have staked their futures on her

But she is dying

The death of a hundred billion cuts.

Poisoned slowly in the wastes of her own entrails

Roasted on a low fire

Gasping for breath in an atmosphere of unknown gases

While her killers bicker over what remains.

Aeons of patient craft, slow shaping, intricate artistry

Erased in the blinking of a geological eye.

The stars look on, and weep.

Elsewhere, another star is born.