"The Essence of the Masterpiece"

Ladies, I present to you the masterpiece:
We begin at the top of his head, covered in tight black curls of varying lengths.  Wonderful, yet
insufferable curls that one minute we want desperately to rake our fingers through and the next
feel the need to brush away from his eyes.
To cover those chocolate brown pools through which he views the world would be a crime.
Those doe-like eyes can sparkle with delight, brim with unshed tears, exude compassion or melt
us with darkening passion.  Countless times we lose ourselves in those eyes, never wanting to
turn away, cut off from the distractions of reality.
The curls end in the feathery soft wisps at his sideburns that you can almost feel beneath your
finger tips.
The feathers lead to a chiseled jawline that changes with his mood and expression. Clenched
with exertion and concentration as he performs his craft and suddenly soft as his unmistakable
and always infectious smile lights up his surroundings and anyone lucky enough to be present.
At times, when he is feeling particularly cozy, the strong jaw turns rough with just a hint of dark
stubble.
The jaw leads us to the thick cord of his neck.  The plane seems to go on forever and looks the
perfect spot to cover in light, incessant pecks.  The crook where his neck meets his broad
shoulders just begs to be nuzzled, where again reality fades and fantasies are born.
Shoulders, upon which too heavy a burden was weighed at too young an age, broadened with
and age and chose to bore the yoke of so many weaker, helpless, needy souls.  His long,
sinewy arms that granted a thousand hugs, performed magic and sparkled in rhinestone lead us
to hands.  The large, soft hands gripped many a microphone (or microphone pole), spun many a
soundboard dial and yet also gently cradled many a head.
The strong shoulders finally tape to a flat solid chest wrapped in silver foil, like so many other
sweet treats.  It heaves in exhaustion after a particularly grueling performance, swells with
appreciation during an ovation and ripples in shakes as the giggle of an angel escapes his lips.
Beneath the silver foil and strong chest, however, lies this masterpiece’s greatest feature, its
purest feature and the feature that remained unchanged – its heart.  It takes special eyes to
view this feature.  Those who aren’t lucky enough to see it and recognize it fail to enjoy the
masterpiece’s essence.
His heart pounded in excitement, it broke in misery, it swelled in pride and it ached in sorrow.
But it never stopped loving. It was big enough to encompass every race, creed, color, religion,
region, nationality and age.  His heart knew no bounds.
L.O.V.E., afterall, was his message.  It’s all for L.O.V.E.
We refer to the masterpiece simply as Michael.

2 comments:

Scrantonmjfan said...

Trish...this is so beautiful...he surely embodied LOVE! Thank you for sharing it with us!

Anonymous said...

So beautiful...that's our Michael...our Masterpiece:)Thank you for taking us there:)