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Grasp for good

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 7:

I can’t tell you where this writing starts I can’t say how it builds in parts.

But the pain of being an honest man long precludes any written plans to make a stace with voice in hand of a pen scratching at this pad.

Difficulty is looking her direct in the eye and attempting to explain exactly why you did what you did like some sorrowful kid.

Be as real as you can or you shall never flower into a man nor can you realize true womanhood tripping on evil grasping for good.

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