It is with great sadness,
I hear that Stephen Hawkins is no more
Among the living. A man who beat disease
And made himself the only inhabitant of a niche
That was his by invention and by colony.
A man who defied a motor neuron
Disease and demonstrated the tangents of a beautiful mind,
A conquistador of the spaces around us.
And on this day, of celebrating the
Birth of Albert Einstein, Steven passed
Away, while his words of wisdom
Of the sheer possibility of alien life, still reverberate.
As I look at myself, wondering,
Looking at a horizon filled with mosquito-sized stars,
Which exist millions of light years away,
And what else, but a strain of innate curiosity,
Defied by an insatiable silence,
Serving me with no tangible answer.
And I suppose, there exists,
In a different galaxy to ours, a Goldilocks planet,
In a habitable zone, where a specimen,
Of a sexually dimorphic species,
Will rest troubled by the same curiosity,
Looking at the enormity of space,
Unified by one open-ended line of thought.