An Excerpt From My Novel

Yes, I wrote the first draft of a novel entitled “What Really Happened At Neverland Ranch”.   I’ve been wrastling with it for six months now… trying to figure out how Creator’s  name to make it smooth and publication worthy… Tonight, as I was editing, I had the inspiration to share a morsel of it with you… just so that it can remain alive beyond my own desperate closet teeming with hope and fear.  I would appreciate any words and cheers of encouragement.  It yearns to be born and cherished as a whimsical parable of a world alive in the lost folds of wild dreams.  Without further ado, ladies and gents, I give you a few linguistic swallows of this zany tale~

“Was the King of Pop a bodhisattva?  That’s debatable.  But if he wasn’t, he sure could have played one on TV.  Especially now, as he danced in the boundless rosy glow.  As he danced, his body became a quivering vessel of luminous rocket fuel.  His heart became a chalice, spilling with intoxicated delight.  His center became a projector, from which vibrating rainbows sprung, musical notes dribbled and butterflies broke free from invisibility and sleep.  This was raw wilderness, only he was not afraid of lions, tigers or three headed bloody fanged giraffes.  Flowers burst into bloom beneath his feet as he churned space into buttery silk.

If it hadn’t have ended, I would have KNOWN without a doubt that this was the lost Eternity.  When the hallowed King of Pop had danced his heart into a completely unbridled state of freedom and bliss, his perfected state invoked an even more startling and wondrous occurrence!  The boundless, pink sky in which the King of Pop danced, burst into a fractaling expanse of ecstatically whirling dervishes!  Their synchronized turning sucked Michael Jackson in like a mighty tide, or the center of a cyclone.  He was pulled into their fluid, oceanic motion and began to involuntarily turn with the best of them.  His dance went from elaborate to simple, but though the outer expression changed, the revelatory essence remained the same.  His wide heart oozed and mingled with the fractaling ocean of ancient Sufis in ecstatic motion.

It was obvious that the King of Pop had abandoned himself and had Become.  He was Becoming and Becoming and Becoming, without beginning or end.  The operatic laughter singing from deep within him was that of a man who has clearly lost and found himself in Everything.  Until, as man tends to do, he fell from unity and back into the ego’s dream of separation in the space of a breath.  His consciousness folded gluttonously back in on its self.  He looked around and realized incredulously that he was suspended in space, dancing with a spiraling infinitude of Sufi masters.  What?!?!

In a state of shock, he stopped dancing and his whirling friends parted like the Red Sea once did.  Michael Jackson held his breath and he realized that it was because Creation, Its Self was holding its breath!!!

He sensed Something was coming.  The tickle in his bones told him so.  From the cleared path in the Sufi Sea, poured forth a man.  An elaborately adorned man with eyes that spit poetic fire and a laugh that spread thru space like warm water, inadvertently melting everything that it touched.  Michael Jackson would have had no idea who this timeless man was, if he had not have been wearing a golden name badge that read “Hafiz”.  The name rung some faint bell in the King of Pop’s mind… but he did not realize that he was now in the company of a hallowed Sufi mystic.

This enchanting man, clad in flowing golden robes spoke and his words scuttled inside Michael Jackson like vast schools of teensy, shimmering silver fish.

“Michael!  You have made it to us!  We have savored beautiful dreams of your arrival for centuries… Now you are here!  We welcome you with resplendent blessings of the Friend.”

Michael Jackson was not feeling like the artist formerly known as Michael Jackson, but more like a zealous fountain of throbbing luminosity.  (Yes, reminiscent of one of his very own champagne fountains)  He searched his mind for a reply to this great being’s warm greeting, but he seemed to have misplaced his mind.  Fortunately, he found his smile and offered it humbly.

His smile seemed to be a sufficient offering to this glowing man who stood before the King of Pop.  Though it is entirely possible that anything would have been sufficient for this man who embodied a holiness transcendent and untainted by church, religion or the bondage of concept.

“My friends and I have been turning in circles for hundreds of years.  Maybe even thousands… after a few twirls, we tend to lose track of time,” Hafiz poured more of his golden honey laugher out into the endlessly spiraling corridor of spinning men.  It bounced and flailed, as though he had tossed frivolous fistfuls of small, rubber, sonic bouncy balls about the heavenly hall.

“We offer our dance as a continuous stream of prayer, you see,” Hafiz continued, “and we have prayed to meet you, the King of Pop… we yearn with all that we are to have a dance lesson from You, Divine One!”

Michael Jackson blinked.  Suddenly he felt shy.

“So what do you say, Friend?  Will you show us some hot moves?  It’s not that we’re bored of circles… but it is the twenty first century… and even Eternity enjoys a change of pace every now and again…”

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