MICHAEL

MICHAEL

Let the wind sob softly unto the trees;
And the robins weep gently to the chickadees.
May the Angels' rejoice upon the other shore...
The 'King of Pop's' no more.

Look! There's Eos! The lovely Dawn!
Magic colors! Splendour of the morn!
A 'Heavenly Chorus'! The 'Muses' bid thee sing!
Hark! The 'Heralds'! Michael just took wing.

May he don the 'Golden Mantle',
Ascend the steps. Behold! The Throne!
Feel the clasp of the 'Evangel'...
For Allah has called thee home.

Let this elegy be seen
As a paean to 'Pop's King'!
We're all privy to this thing
We saw Michael just take wing.