Published in the March 13 – 26, 2019 issue of Morgan Hill Life
Stephen Hawking
Arnim Nicholson
Who says interesting things don’t happen in San Martin? If you can explain this extraordinary mysterious event, I would like to hear from you.This is how it happened March 13, 2018. I write poetry and, on this morning, I was inspired to write a poem I called “Trapped.”
When the thought came to me early in the morning, it would not leave me alone until I sat down at the computer and started to write. My wife was at the Morgan Hill library and when she started to leave, she got inspired to bring home a video. When she got home, I handed her the poem. She read it and then we sat down and watched the video. After watching the video, the poem I had written described the person in the video. Before watching the video, I had no idea who this man was or how I ever heard of him. That night on the TV news we discovered this person had died that same day.
So how does a man in San Martin writing poetry and a man in England connect when neither one knew each other? If this had been the only interesting event in my life, I would say it’s just a )coincidence. Yet I have had more than one unanswerable event that has given me to ponder upon this connection. This man didn’t believe there was a God, nor was there anything after this life.
Why would one who believed there was no God and one who knows there is, have this connection? So, who was this man who believed there was no life after death? Could he be wrong, and does it even matter? When you pass this mortal existence and step on the other side, I would suggest you look up Dr. Stephen Hawking and see if he has changed his mind.
Trapped
In a world of restraint — a mortal soul
A physical immoveable body
Is there no escape for me — what am I to do
No moveable parts and bounded within
No place to go — no place to hide
Stuck within this chair of mine
Is there no one to care — where should I go
Why am I even alive
O how I wish I could fly — off to some foreign place
Walk upon a beach and feel some sand
Yet here I sit — trapped within my chair
If only I could feel my toes — what good are my arms
No more do they move — O-how I hate being trapped
Then came to my mind
You have unlimited power
Close your eyes — activate your mind
There is no power to match — the human mind
Capable imagining — almost anything
What is time but a place to reside
Yet your mind has never been trapped
It resides within — for such a short time
Soon freed and all ready to go
No longer trapped within a world of Woe
No longer trapped within a mortal soul
Now free to explore God’s mysteries
Throughout God’s galaxies and beyond In a resurrected — perfected body
Thus the mind has achieved — its dream
Once again whole and complete
Living on some seclude
Arnim Nicolson is a San Martin resident who enjoys writing poetry.
