For many young people the words and music of Tupac Shakur -- who died two years ago at age 25 -- still have a resonance that has never been equaled. Near the anniversary of his death, PNS commentator Ri'Chard Magee explains the lasting power of this artist. Ri'Chard Magee is on the staff of YO! (Youth Outlook), a newspaper by and about young people produced by Pacific News Service.

No other person ever spoke so clearly to me as Tupac Shakur.

I know this sounds a little trite in light of all the hype about Tupac, but I feel as if no more than 30 people on the face of this planet actually felt 'Pac to the extreme that I did.

He stole almost every fiber of my conscious mind, and put them into songs that make me feel as if I'm simply closing my eyes and hearing my soul's personal CD.

The clarity and passion which he brought to almost any subject literally places him in the room with me when I listen to his music. From the first day that you meet Pac, it's like he's asking you to come ride with him, to hop in the back seat and revisit all his personal struggles.

Getting shot, doing time in jail, moms being on crack, scandalous females, untrustworthy patnas, the whole nine (yards, that is). How can you listen to his music and not feel personally connected to the man, not feel as if you know him? Many times, listening to his music I've caught myself talking out loud to 'Pac as if he was there.

Thug. Shining prince. Gangsta killa. Humble servant of God. Superstar. Common man. Sexist, obstinate pig. Passionate defender of women, staunch advocate of women's rights. Ignorant brutha. Political philosopher. Voice of the hopeless. One concept/ideal embodied in a person constantly spewing Nova-white rays of contradiction, and duality.

His heritage and lineage spoke of a people's struggle for freedom, of the passion of being oppressed and being deeply committed to change the oppressive factors.

His mother and father were both Black Panthers, and the concept of racial struggle ate at Tupac from an early age. He was brought up in the 1980s, when crack was flooding the black community. Living most of his teenage life in the San Francisco Bay Area, Tupac was no stranger to drugs or violence or strife. And in his adult life he threw all this in the face of those who couldn't see where he was coming from -- showed the world what it meant to be a black male in America and did so with ridiculous ease.

Tupac Amaru Shakur's legacy will forever be his duality.

When I ask people why they're so drawn to Tupac, his music and his ideas, they cite various reasons -- his "I don't give a ****" mentality, his almost frighteningly clear perceptions on politics and the times, the "perfectly in sync with the ghetto" feel to his music, his love for money and the fairer sex, his hate of suckas, the rawness of his vision. He was a diamond -- every time he turned around he showed thousands of facets.

Some of those facets directly contradicted others. In the music industry this is unheard of -- any attempts to break out of your mold will almost always lead fans to abandon you. But with Tupac, it seemed as if people actually loved him more for being a living contradiction.

Not all of them -- for many, he didn't fit the narrow conceptions of "keeping it real." They say he was too many people at once to truly be any of them.

Maybe they hated him for showing aspects of black men that aren't supposed to be shown. Or they question the morals of the "streets." People hated Pac for being an intellectual but at the same time a thug.

I identify with Pac for representing virtually all aspects of the life of an inner city black male in America. Whether you love him or hate him, he made you recognize him.