In the final 40 minutes of The Theory of Everything, the movie about Steven Hawking’s life and achievements, I paused it 7 times in moments of inspiration to write 7 poems. I’ve decided not to edit any of these (spelling errors amok). As a relevant aside, in my high school philosophy class, I asserted that the concept of choice was nothing more than an illusion; 15 years later (a couple years ago) when I studied Hawking’s principle on black hole radiation and the mutability of the universe, it changed my mind. This is poem 3:
No amount of poetry internal resonant frequency will let you truly know me as I’ll never know you too.
No proper delivery No Acoustic fidelity or even videography will let me feel being you.
But on some shallower level we can bump to music find inner chaos together then shake it off and lose it.
Life is a game that no one wins but a collective group of experiences and I believe that choice is real so beat with me if your heart feels.
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