Death lays its icy hands on kings

Forenote: [I have given a tribute at my own blog: here]

Michael Jackson, yeah...some of you label him as a "pedo", drug addict, racist and gawd dawg.
But that does not make my admiration for him any less, even in philosophy.

He lived for beauty, in art, in habit, in life.
One of the most original musicians, his voice could scourge such depths and heights of emotions, of human longing, disdain and indifference that it is hard to believe such emotions lived at all. They did. And they made mankind do great things. No amount of the fact that he played with a boy's d*** can undo the ripples of wonder, awe and burning admiration when he flexed a muscle on stage.

You say doing drugs is bad for human life.
But what for a man who lives for beauty?
How do you know that his drug taking did not start from the want to seeth under greater emotions to give music and voice to...
(Of course, his different physiological developments and the need to cope might have induced this)
I think everything he did was just a pursuit of human emotions, power and his own self-defined values.
There is nothing I despair to see, than a man with no personal values. Michael had very definite ones, it seems.
For to pursue beauty, one has to willingly sacrifice his life.

So here goes...a cheer for the man who was the epitome of beauty and self design.
Michael Joseph Jackson: August 29, 1958 – June 25,2009