To the King of Pop...

Dear Michael Jackson,

This morning I woke up to the news that you are no more. I didn't know what to think. I still don't. I did not want to believe it. How could you, a king in every sense of the word, be dead?

But it seems that you are, and that saddens me to no end. Like millions of others across the globe, I grew up listening to you and idolising you. I know the words to every single one of your hits. I have seen every single one of your music videos, hundreds of times, seen most of your concerts on VHS and later on on DVD. Over the years, I've tried to emulate you, to copy your innovative dance moves, especially your signature moonwalk. Tried and failed miserably.

To me it didn't matter if you were "black or white"; you were a living legend. You were an awe inspiring performer and an entertainer extradionaire. Your career was a "thriller" to your loyal fans. When controversy was threatening to turn you into a "stranger in Moscow" you told your critics to "beat it" in your own quiet, soft-spoken way.

You're truly a king. Every man, woman and child on Earth knows your name. There are millions who'd give anything to see you perform live. It's always been one of my biggest dreams to see you on stage, but I guess that dream will never come true now. But no matter. You have given me enough to be thankful for.

Thank you for the music.

Rest in peace, your majesty.