Still on MJ....

I thought I'd share this Emily Dickson's poem, as it appears to capture the unfaithful relationship we, as individuals have with fame. MJ's death brings that to mind rather vividly. And the more I read it, the more it seems just apt.

Dickson in many of her poems seem fascinated with the subject of death. In many of her poems, she described death in so apt a manner, she became almost another stranger on the street. And who says it isn't. I would leave you now to enjoy the poem. And now, Introducing....

Fame is a Fickle Food

Fame is a fickle food
Upon a shifting plate
Whose table once a
Guest but not
The second time is set.

Whose crumbs the crows inspect
And with ironic caw
Flap past it to the Famer's Corn--
Men eat of it and die.
(Emily Dickinson)