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