Michael Jackson powered the world on his artistry, and now that his drug-corroded battery has given out, his fans are left to their hearts and pocketbooks.
While they grieve for his soul, they seethe for those sycophants and bloodsuckers who snared his earthly being. Throughout life, Michael Jackson just wanted to give -- because he was deprived of such gifts from those closest to him.
He was left to fend for himself, a genius in search of his soul. The irony is that while his fans found him, Michael never found himself. His was a pale skeleton shadowing a childhood never obtained. His was a life mistaken by tabloid innuendo but nonetheless an existence of pain and much sorrow.
So pray now for Michael, and continue to joyfully pay when you buy his masterpieces. New generations have joined their grandparents in hearing pop classics crooned by a once and future king.
That Michael's music is once again atop the charts is a singular achievement likely never again to be achieved. "Billy Jean," "Thriller," "Man in the Mirror," "Lady in My Life," "Off the Wall" -- no, I never will say goodbye, Michael.
