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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 time. No oceans can rush our tides
with the abrupt absence of our treasure.
Though we are 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 more than
that.
He thrived with passion and compassion, humor and
style. We had him whether we know 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 and Pittsburgh, in Birmingham,
England
We are missing Darkbringer
But we do know we had him, and we are the world.