How should I review this film
when words themselves
seem to falter before a legend
who once held the entire world in quiet awe with his music?
Bestowed with a grace that almost felt divine
not merely a voice, but a lexicon of feeling
where even in quietude, silence learned to sing
and sorrow, with its unhealed depths, found its rhythm.
An elated rhapsody of purity and heightened creativity
Michael Jackson moved like memory
elusive, incandescent, his presence
translating the unspeakable
into beat, into becoming.
A prodigious child, with a crown on his head
His innocence bartered
at the alter of brilliance
yet all that he gave, relentlessly and unceasingly
remained pure, untouched, unshadowed
like a prayer, achingly pure
blessed with divinity.
He was not a performance, but an existence beyond the ordinary
a passage, a living conduit between the tangible and the unseen
where imagination did not merely create
but expanded into unfathomable proportions
far beyond the limits of the perceiving mind.
A confession in every note, a pulse in every pause
there has been no one like him, nor will there ever be.
Michael, though you’re an echo now
your music lingers, still pulsating
within those who loved you, who revered your art
your ardent admirers, your listeners, your audience.
Because you still live on
teaching the world
how to feel…how to live.