Poor Stephen Hawking
Is through with talking;
He can only calculate
& by click communicate
In a voice that's never his
A mind that's free from all disease.
Or is it really?  Does he map
The universe, or does he nap
While others speculate aloud
On Stephen's gifts to please the crowd?

Everyone stop gawking
At poor Stephen Hawking.
Why don't we wish him lasting peace
So he can do just what he please
Instead of asking how & why
Our universe is going to die?
I'm sure he'd rather take a break
For black holes can be awfully bleak
When one can barely breathe & blink.

When paparrazi bar the way
Why don't they let him roll away
Back to his quiet Oxford place
Far from the chill of outer space
& movie cameras & the press
& all the things that give him stress?

Let the genius go free!
For Stephen Hawking is not like you or me.
He understands the "Mind of God"
While folks like us can only nod
Agreement at the Good and True
And apologize for the moil we put him through
Bringing the universe within the reach
Of average humans sitting on the beach
Or driving aimlessly as average humans drive,
Or barely thriving as average humans thrive.

We love you, Stephen Hawking, do not die!
Oh Stephen Hawking never click "goodbye"!
We need your presence on the T.V. screen
In a thosand books and motoring o'er the green.
For if you leave us, it will be sadly true
That average humans will miss thinking of you.

Jess