Tim Young 1962-2006
An Angel and a Demon Speak Together At Long Last
We don't buy human souls.
They are not yours to sell.
Nor do we save them; they
Are not in danger.
Stop being clever.
God has everything well
In hand.
We are the outcasts.
We are the elect.
We are the janitors,
The cleaning ladies,
Sopping up vomit
In a frat house sink.
We touch strangers,
Give them gifts, we
Remind, reward,
Destroy.
We bite and claw.
We soothe and serve.
We burn with an unknown
Shadow fire.
We are forced to forget.
We are divine sycophants,
The bitches of the heavenly
Cell block.
We are the bad boys,
The rough friends.
Mom's restless nightmare;
Her soul comfort,
Her sad defeat.
We are two sides of the same
Coin.
We are pleasure and regret.
A static signal, none can forget.
We know no birth,
We know no death.
We are only ourselves.
Born of a holy loneliness,
We burst forth from a
momentary lapse.
We demand.
We serve.
We command.
Listen to us.
We give,
We take,
We watch it all roll away.
There is no experience in which we do not delight.
There is no occurrence in which we do not weep.
The rest is a mystery, of which I will not speak.
There are some things the shadow puppets must
Not know.
If you have a complaint,
Take it up with the Boss.
-Timothy Jay Young
From Shunpiker.org
posted by JAB at 9:50 PM
1 Comments:
For those who didn't hear the news: Tim died Thursday of cardio-respiratory failure, in India.
For those who didn't know Tim: he was a friend of ours whom we first knew in high-school in Anchorage. If I had to sum him up in one word, I would choose: a) teacher, b) mystic, c) poet, d) seeker, e) all of the above. Plus 'radical', 'actor', 'homosexual', 'scholar', 'alcoholic', and above all else 'friend' to so many to whom he would give anything he had or take any chance, simply out of love.
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