INTERTWINED THROUGHOUT THE memoir, Paul’s writing is full of insight, revealing a depth that few who knew him would recognize. The inspiration for the memoir’s title came from Paul’s poem, Pleading with Gravity.

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PLEADING WITH GRAVITY October 2015

Oh gravity why do you blind me with your wicked, ill-fated tempers? Every time I attempt a climb up and out of your crippling power, You welcome me with a fall from grace, back to your cold ground. Am I destined to your chains? Am I a part of your city sidewalk, in a puddle of beer and cracked glass? Do you contain my prayers so they’ll never reach the maker? Do you intercept these wishes and hide them? I want to sing and climb on stars, gravity. I want to do a handstand on the moon and dip my feet in the pacific. I want to cover miles to grasp a notion of what infinity means. I want to cover my dreams in ink and repel you with my pen. I want to hide in my poem and sleep with my own inspiration. But I’m stuck here with you gravity. And I’m bearing your weight for you.

A FLOWER IN FILTH February 2011

Does that flower growing from rubble exist all alone? is it seen by the soldier's dying eyes or the drunken youth outside of the corner store, weeping? Does it shed its grace on their chills? As the factory boilers settle their smog, leaving shadows on an abandon city; this flowers peddles are alive and blush, shining brightly red, reflecting innocence upon the landfill on witch it sits. But does it notice poverty or rage? Trash and a dying breed of people so hungry for love, surround this flower's immaculate existence. These people are bleeding for a thirst of destruction that could never be quenched and the flower witnesses it all, but does it ask why in all of its divinity?  And as these withering crowds die at the bitter earth, this flower just springs forth from its own purity, feeding of the soil forgotten.  It doesn't expect pity, and it doesn't know of starving families, it just knows its instinct to survive, to exhale new life, and to reconstruct natures needs. All this and does it expect recognition? Does it want a reward for its struggle coming up? Does it anger and tense when bottles and trash are cast at its feet? No...it just turns to the suns beams and lives up to its destiny, at the opening and closing of every day. That little flower knows god's law better than any of us.