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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