I can feel it’s cold embrace.
The wind.
A brush, naturally moving back and forth
And me.
The canvas upon which the wind does its work.

It was heard in every place
The tragic loss of a man of thought,
A researcher of time and space,
A down to earth astronaut.

But he wasn’t “down to earth”,
Instead he was quite the opposite
Incredible ideas and theories
A creativity that would never quit
He’d stand on the shoulders of giants
He stands even though he sits.

He’s Superman in a floating space station
And though he lost at quantum chess,
His ideas are heard in every nation
Of a great man, you would expect no less.

So how do we cope you may ask?
How does one recover in a world so weary,
Well surprisingly enough he gave us the answer.
It’s his Hawking Radiation Theory.

Hawking radiation weakens a black hole
But this is more than just celestial entities.
It can describe coping as a whole.
Or instead coping as a hole, you see.
Like his theory, grief diminishes over time.
We learn to move on and remember.
We write the legacy he built in his prime.
And we make a flame from the dying ember.
A flame!
A beacon!
To light the future and radiate through all of creation.
Radiate through all of time!
Now that’s Hawking Radiation.

A steady daily routine, rarely broken.
My life was dull before. An unending repetition.
Colors were present, but they were dulled and decayed.
I could sense my sense, but I couldn't make sense of my senses.
It was all a gray blur.

A steady daily routine, broken.
I see you and my life finally lives up to its name. I finally have life.
Colors are still present, but this time its a present just to see your colors.
You hug my arm and my senses flare. I don't want to make sense.
I just want to be with you.

Everyone put your hands up.
Let me see you in the photos.
Let me remember you.
Let your permanent image
Be momentarily frozen.

Everyone held their hands up.
They held them up high.
They held up their hands
In the hopes of being seen.
In the hopes of being wanted.
In the hopes that
This frozen second
Is the only second that mattered.

I held my hand up.
**** it if I didn’t stand
On my tiptoes
Just to reach ever so higher.
I held my hand up
Ever so high.
Not to be seen,
Or be wanted,
Or to even matter.
I held my hand up
Because I knew I was invisible
I knew I was indiscernible from the crowd.
I knew I was a minuscule part
Of a vastly bigger whole.
And in that, I found comfort.

I held my hand up,
Higher than ever before.
I held it up for me.
Nothing less nothing more.