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 2:
Strong by choice truth in voice
But what Sacrifice did I make? No knowledge of my mistake when blinded by self-righteousness who is burning to feed by my bliss?
Maybe no one How could I know? as I grow past my fiery past
On a throne alone I shall outlast the weak and feeble minded who my honesty ripple grinded in bad grammer all torn up crank the dial turn down for what?
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