The world lost a unique individual with the death of Michael Jackson. A brilliant dancer, singer, recording artist, he epitomized what it was to be a star. An incandescent talent, so brilliant he burned out long before what the world would have wanted of him could eventuate.
Unfortunately he wasn’t the first brilliant talent whose life was snatched away long before his time. It happens so often I am tempted to think that talent such as his could have been just too much to bear.
Or perhaps the fact of precocious talent is more of a curse than a blessing. So often stars seem to attract the destructive; like moths to a flame. How many times have we seen such people attach themselves to the star like leeches, sucking the lifeblood out of them.
How often has the talented individual been forced to live in a world of fantasy, divorced from the reality we all know and accept. The fact of their stardom makes it impossible for them to do simple things like buy a hamburger, or walk down the street and drop in somewhere for coffee. I saw part a an interview Michael did with Barbara Walters where he stated this very thing. He couldn’t do what normal people did.
The rumours of his dependence on prescription drugs is an all too common story for these individuals who pay the ultimate price for their fame. They lose their identity and are forced to live the fantasy they create. How tragic.
I admired Michael Jackson for his brilliance. I felt for him as he struggled to emerge from childhood. I don’t know that he ever succeeded.
If there is such a thing as reincarnation I wish him happiness in his new identity.
PS I shall now write a poem to try to express my perspective on a remarkable human being.
The crowd is tense, the stage is bare.
They look to see, no one is there.
A light snaps on, he stands chest bare.
A wraith like image, they catch his stare.
The music starts, a pulsing rhyme,
His body sways and moves in time.
His hands are raised, his voice, it soars
The crowd ignites, as one it roars.
His dancing, moving like no other,
sends daughters screaming for their mother.
He gives his all, his heart and soul
His music makes the young feel whole.
The lights go dim, he moves away,
To show his magic another day.
The toll it takes no one can see
To be the best for you and me.
All his life he’s had to bear
The load of always being there.
To give his life, his heart and soul
Exposed to all, as in a bowl.
No chance to simply be himself,
Forever being on the shelf.
He cannot do the simple things,
Like simple folk, no joy it brings.
Why should he be the one to pay
The price of fame, to fade away?
So very soon before his time
Too soon, for him the bell did chime.
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