We lay you to rest brother. Your ether is released to the infinite.
I like to remember you before you were imprisoned, back when we were fresh fruit.
Young, competitive, and filled with the sweetness of the unblemished.
We waxed vulgarly about the ripeness of the bushel that surrounded us.
But you happily shared the gospel of your island and the blessings it yields.
Enthusiasm entails. "Brother this ain't Grease, dis' nigga pussy whooped!"
Another moment of our journey is the exploration of spells and casters of mood.
I was inexperienced with Art Blakey and Miles Davis, but was imbibing.
Brother...you, Jon, and Jon's sister brought up Coltrane--and how I needed to take that ride. I'm appreciative of this moment of eager vulneralbility, for it helped me to grasp a spell that was beyond my comprehension at the time--and set the stage for your diving bell and butterfly.
You're a big man for not only eating the roast I served you, but for shutting up the people getting angry at my "insensitivity," and delivering a dish that was so spicy--that we had cried from the temperture level. I wish that you had went to that gentlemen's club with me, but you're too much of a gentle king. And I guess you've done so much window shopping, that that window could have broken your spirit--but now you're released...into the ether good brother.
Rest in Peace Tim, I appreciate your Equinox. #BLM