Hawking

Ensconed within a fragile shell,
A shadow of a man who cannot talk,
He neither moves nor can he walk,
Dormant, he silently sits in his chair,
Caught in his wretched body's snare,
A prisoner of his affliction,
Progressive paralysis is his prediction,
And yet, within that broken bit of flesh,
There lives a mind - powerful, fresh,
The greatest intellect of our generation
Who comprehends
The universe and its creation,
Man's progress furthered
Through his contemplation,
If there be gods above who care,
I'd say to them: Life is not fair...

Alfred Charasz
Copyright 2006 Alfred Charasz