(For Jim Morrison)
The Indian's soul embrassed you,
on that lost desert highway.
Tapping into your thoughts
they gave chase to your soul.
You grew into a man,
disenchanted with the system.
You were the lizard king,
you were the god of rock.
You freed the souls
of a million youth.
Yet even with your words
they saw you as a clown.
Standing in the spolight
for all the world to see.
Torn between to lovers,
ripped between two worlds,
You chose the best of both,
and sailed for distant shores.
Did the spirits leave you,
or take final control?
Dimming your light
until the spark was gone?
Yet you left us your words,
and now we understand.
For the soul is gone
but the words remain,
To strike a spark
in the soul of youth.
Patrick Wescott
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mr-mojo-rising-1994/
