Beloveds, now we know that we know nothing
Now that our bright and shining star can slip away from our fingertips like a puff of summer wind.
Without notice, our dear love can escape our doting embrace.
Sing our songs among the stars and walk our dances across the face of the moon.
In the instant that Michael is gone, we know nothing.
No clocks can tell our time and no oceans can rush our tides
with the abrupt absence of our treasure.
Though we many, each of us is achingly alone,
Piercingly alone Only when we confess our confusion can we remember that he was a gift to us and we did have him.
He came to us from the Creator, trailing creativity in abundance
Despite the anguish, his life was sheathed in mother love, family love and survived and did not more than that.
He thrived with passion and compassion, humor and style.
We had him whether we knew who he was or did not know, he was ours and we were his.
We had him, beautiful, delighting our eyes.
His hat, aslant over his brow, and took a pose on his toes for all of us and we laughed and stomped our feet for him.
We were enchanted with his passion because he held nothing.
He gave us all he had been given.
Today in Tokyo, beneath the Eiffel Tower, in Ghana's Black star Square, in Johannesburg, in Pittsburgh, in Birmingham, Alabama and Birmingham England, we are missing Michael Jackson But we do know that we had him,
And we are the world.
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