Where do stars go when they die?

Does somebody ever mark the graves of their burning bodies falling all over the endless void? While being pulled by the gravitational dances of different masses, does anyone ever know where their fragments end up heading? 

Falling there, I learned the hard way, is different from falling from floors in a random building somewhere on Earth. There, you never really land on something; you just fall endlessly into the abyss.

I have heard cosmic tales of how you used to shine, so why did you explode here like a dying star?

The final act of a star is to burn the brightest before it meets its death. 

Let's measure how bright you were as you die. Your flare must have been too much to be seen by the naked eye. But the light you gave, and the life you never received, flickered a beacon in the looming darkness inside our hearts and minds.

Now, the ever-expanding scheme of the cosmos feels wider—emptier. The space-time fabric, warped by the weight of your death, reminds me that you must have sought refuge out there. Was it because you felt like you didn't deserve the burning warmth of Earth? Was it why the cosmos is pitch black—and houses what once lit the brightest?

There is an unfathomable distance between the explosions and the Earth; between me and you; between life and death; between being a woman and being human. It will continue to haunt the now empty spaces inside of me. 

Maningning, I never really knew you. At one point, I was even afraid of you.

But lately, from Earth, I am unable to see stars at night. In the absence of light, I was suddenly reminded of the pieces you left behind. Fluent in the universal language of being human, I stopped seeing you as the terrifying ghost that haunts thy halls. You were once a woman too, a human who had to leave as you are in the universe like a supernova does.

You fell—whether from the stairs or the skies—I will remember it all. A piece of you will continue burning inside of me, adorning the universe with the glowing nebulae. And in hopes to see new stellar bodies born, I will keep you with me. 

I will keep you with me, anyway. 

- Kristine Aimee Millonte
(Illustration by Mary Nicole Halili/FEU Advocate)