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, Alabama, 

and Birmingham, England

We are missing Michael.

But we do know we had him, 

and we are the world.

- Maya Angelou, 2009