Chroniclers and Storytellers

At night I stare at the abyss of the sky:
The myriads of the quivering stars, like multicolored
opals, are Beckoning me.
With them, I stare at the Eternity.
All So far away,
the fingers of my imagination cannot reach.
For millions
their image:  echoes of themselves,
Eons after their Valhallas.
The enormity of my awe
humbles me,
The solace: for myself, and my kind:
Chroniclers, ponderers, and storytellers of this universe.


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