Name of the poem: "An Elegy Written in a Deathly Prison Cell for a Moving Spirit of Life."

Writer: Prof G.N. Saibaba,16 March 2018.(On reading the news about Stephen Hawking's death.)

Music : musica indigena sem direitos autorais,indegenous.

Narrator: Anonymous.

Audio Editor: Rose.

Visual Editor: Shaida.

Director: Hossein.

Program Coordinator: Lily.

"An Elegy Written in a Deathly Prison Cell for a Moving Spirit of Life".

Wandering in a wheelchair

you glided through the galactic'pathways

across the bottomless paradoxical pits

where light never dared to tread.

My cosmic companion,

a heap of bones,

motionless lump of muscles!

Where did you pluck

these fistfuls of falling stars?

How did you get your grip

on the space-time singularities?

Going places

riding on gravitational waves

you visited Black Holes and baby

Universes.

Where all did you leave the footprints

of human imagination

from this tiny speck of our dwelling

abode?

Time is the history of space

with a beginining and an end.

Space is time spread like a cosmic mat

on journey through

the heart of the Dark Matter.

Time collapses into space,

space collides with time

in your wicked humour's

theory of everything.

You churned equations

out of your esoteric mind

measuring the life and death

of the ever-expanding universe.

How did you get the energy

in the debris of your body?

I wasn't shocked

to read the bad news.

I know you didn't live to die

beyond your doctors' expectations.

You ripped open the boundaries of

science;

You confronted the challenges

of your challenged life.

My friends,

You celebrated human capacity

to comprehend a godless,

uncaring multiverse.

You navigated its mysteries

heartily smiling away your way

even as the treacheries in human life

still remained baffling

on this tiny planet.

You are the epitome

of human confidence

in life and death

with a gentle laughter

on your unmoving lips.