Even worlds die. In a universe so vast, there is always, somewhere, a planet that is fading out and dying in the great darkness.
When a world begins to die, there are plenty of humanitarian organizations ready to sweep in to the rescue, evacuating the planet’s inhabitants and relocating them to a new home world in some other part of the galaxy. They are hurried away, and the world is left alone.
That is when I arrive.
I come to these worlds for the worlds themselves. Because, for all the worlds and lives in the universe, it is still a vast and terribly lonely place…and no one should have to die alone.
That is why I come: I am the one who treads the surfaces of these worlds as the remnants of their life bleed out into the emptiness. I stay with them—touch them, hold them, comfort them as they fade away. My voice, my music, are the last things they hear before they slip into the silence of the universe.
I comfort them, hear their memories and confessions of all to which they have borne witness—the wars that didn’t have to happen; the children who shouldn’t have died; the heroes and dreamers who won and who lost; the loves that conquered the odds; the miracles, the disasters, the things more beautiful than anything you could ever imagine on your own.
I watch the sky explode with lights and colors of spectacular auroras as the worlds breathe out their final breaths of life in dancing waves. I tell them it is beautiful.
I sit and sink my fingertips into the earth so the planet can feel that I am there, and as we watch the distant stars for one last time, I sing them softly to sleep.
When it is over—when they are gone—I pull my hand away, rise, bless them, and bid them rest in whatever peace there be for the soul of a planet.
And then I leave them. The universe is harsh and cold, and the shell of a planet that has died is quickly consumed by a deep freeze, or else disintegrates into rubble. Countless times, I have witnessed a planet collapse as I withdraw from it.
Every time, I have wept. A planet, a world, is such a special thing; to set foot upon one is a privilege under any circumstances, but to be the last—to be the one to see a planet’s dying breath, the one to feel its last thought…
It is a burden great for the soul of something as small as a human to bear. But it is a gift, and an honor, to be the one who sings the worlds to sleep.