While Stephen Hawking’s brilliant mind lies trapped
within his body’s frail and useless shell
(by that same faulty DNA that wrapped
its vice-like grip ‘round Gehrig’s living hell),
his mind is free to soar among the stars.

His unstilled fingers serve as Stephen’s tongue,
selecting words from letters on a screen.
His artificial voice spreads wit among
his friends, who only envy what he’s seen
in soaring mental flight among the stars.

To see him follow Newton’s hallowed path
along some storied Cambridge college hall
in slowly rolling chair – at first brings wrath
against the fates, then questions – why? — then awe
that he still freely soars among the stars.

His mind, while contemplating deaths of suns, 
unlocks the secrets of the universe -
the first big bang, its many mirrored sons,
mysterious black holes - titanic hearses
carrying off the remnants of the stars.

His body fettered, soaring mind unbound,
this new Prometheus bravely wrestled fate
and won, and with his wisdom he has found
the grit to rise above his earthbound state
and teach us all to know the fire of stars.