On hearing about the lawsuit against Led Zeppelin

Jimmy, 

you built me a stairway to heaven, for someone 
who never thought it a place worth going, you built it
in guitar riffs that twist insides, that lift to the sky that
crush you under the weight of the spell, 
you built a stairway to heaven that didn’t have to be climbed, but float, 
left on top stranded soaring, the fall like angelwings, 
Robert, you carved it with the star grit of voice, summoned like with burning knives
heaven is your hair in the limelight, no angel
ever had such a halo, no angel made a sound like what stirs from your torso when you grip 
the mic and howl like from the depths of a hell where you were cast down 
but you built a stairway to heaven out: 
in a dim lit basement in industrial Gurgaon, 
in dark rooms world over, built stairways to epiphany,  
connecting souls, the soundtrack of lives, over forty years, 
through grips of death, love beginning, through heartbreak and loss, lives 
changed forever, I can’t count how many stairways you built, 
how many heavens you spun, can’t measure what you did to me
the first time I truly heard the sound of 
heaven 
is not
a place
but a song, and I thought I heard it 
in you:
and now
I almost cannot believe 
that everything bright and beautiful and true boiled down becomes 
something else, becomes another dissection, a lawyer’s defence, 
becomes a dead man’s estate splitting profits in half, they found ways 
to measure what seemed an infinite stairway– brought down to earth,
an inconceivable crash, and now the only sound I hear 
is of breaking.