Born of the Beat
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To be born of something is to be born into greatness, for the result is genius. A special moment in time when the stars are aligned to achieve a specific purpose, the soul this energy has found forever in tune with this phenomenon of universal anomaly known as prodigy.
Such was the case which graced the Jackson family on August 29, 1958. A household of children, melodies, and a continuous beat, the aligned stars from above bringing forth a boy named Michael, the beat of his heart to instantaneously merge with the beat of song, the result being a supernatural quality of music coming to visual life via the boy’s body moving to the beat while simultaneously riding the rhythm.
For anyone who beheld such a wonder gratitude would sprout, for their eyes had never witnessed anything like it and in so doing would understand what an honor it was to see such a thing.
As with any miraculous occurrence among the ordinary the more the wind carried word of the extraordinary the more attention it received, before long countless flocking to bear witness to this musical messiah as he turned stages into comets, performances into spiritual experiences.
Just as every dark cloud has its silver lining every bright star has its dark shadow, and with the eyes of the world on him Michael learned one of two lessons from this truth. To possess and share this special gift would mean the end to privacy, for their thirst for the miraculous would always be unquenchable. And so he went on giving what he could, and so they went on feasting upon it.
The second lesson Michael had to come to terms with had him not dealing with outside forces but rather the one within. The almighty genius itself, as this all-powerful force had an all-consuming nature, the more Michael used it the more it would demand of him. But being born of the beat how could he ignore it? It was who he was and vice versa, so all he could do was try his best at taming it, knowing at times it would allow him to be at peace, but then wake from its dormant state with such energy that nothing could really turn it off. Such a dilemma, because it was within this eruption of creation where he also found the most pleasant of peace.
But accompanying every beat was indeed his heartbeat, his physical self. A human form trying to keep up with a superhuman ability, the result being a severe lack of sleep, for how could one expect to just turn off a celestial flow when it quickly became an overwhelming flood of composition. Sure the world had its remedies, but they had been created for the average, the norm, again, the ordinary. It would take a lot more than a few encapsulated chemicals to put to bed this extended touch of the universe’s powerful hand.
And thus came the anesthetic propofol. Not being a man of medicine but rather a being of musical genius Michael had to rely upon others for a solution to his insomniatic problem. For a while the answer had appeared to have been found, a private doctor administering the drug most commonly used in operational procedures, but as is one of the underlining themes to this story one of exceptional being does not do well among the average, and as a result when a mind of the mundane is entrusted with such a delicate circumstance it can infect the brilliance of the supernatural with a level of incompetence that can produce lethal effects.
Such was the case on June 25, 2009, mindless actions causing a fool of a doctor to be responsible for taking away from this world one of the greatest talents it has ever known.
With the last breath of Michael came the last beat of his heart, in turn silencing the beat which had enthralled countless. We must keep the history of his story aligned with truth as much as he had been aligned with the stars. There to extinguish all false claims that are bound to arise every now and then, like drug addiction and other malicious lies spouted by the obstinate and straight-up stupid scum of the earth. Those who blindly fumble their way through life with such eagerness to destroy one’s character as it is what comes easiest, not even possessing a particle of the creative genius known as Michael Jackson.
Genius; it was what he had been born as and what ultimately returned him back to the universe above. Let us never forget, let us always remember.