Distant stars, held in our hands,
a thousand light years past.
Seeking a reason for existence,
our disguise falls away.
Plummeting down a black hole
into infinity, abstract notions rise.
Finding oneself in a vision of doubt,
a corner is turned.
Never knowing, always guessing,
the substance of one’s path.
The plurality of truth
lends a guiding light.
There are no answers beyond
what or why, nothing to ascertain.
Firmaments collapsing within our grasps.
Stars are born, and stars die,
while bewilderment takes hold.
We are but children of the sky,
reaching for the future,
with distant stars within our hands.
About the Poet
Ann Christine Tabaka was nominated for the 2017 Pushcart Prize in Poetry. She is the winner of Spillwords Press 2020 Publication of the Year (Poetic), has been internationally published, and won poetry awards from numerous publications. She is the author of 10 poetry books. She has recently been published in several micro-fiction anthologies and short story publications. Christine lives in Delaware, USA. She loves gardening and cooking. Chris lives with her husband and three cats. Her most recent credits are: The American Writers Review; The Phoenix; Burningword Literary Journal; Muddy River Poetry Review; The Write Connection; Ethos Literary Journal, North of Oxford, Pomona Valley Review, Page & Spine, West Texas Literary Review, The Hungry Chimera, Sheila-Na-Gig, Foliate Oak Review, The Stray Branch, The McKinley Review, Fourth & Sycamore.