His was a truly great mind;
eccentric and passionate,
wise and compassionate,
Yet, he suffered the dark;
a pain too deep for eyes to see,
a curse so wicked,
Yet, he never showed it.
I saved him a place
at my table of wise men;
great minds I'd collected,
my renaissance men,
For these were great minds I adored.
Each place set, but no one yet showed,
one day, they'll gather
all but him.
My dear friend, and your great mind,
my own curiosity, foaming at the mouth,
craving what you were thinking.
I regret not seeing you that last time,
you said come tonight,
I said it's two thousand miles,
I answered incorrectly, this we both knew.
I should have come,
Yet, we both know I couldn't,
this curse of my own, we both know,
but I'm sorry, I wish it were different.
And now, a year later,
you, gone, and me, a year older.
Your sister I feel for the most,
poor girl,
she didn't need that, to find you,
her brightest star.
I don't blame you though,
I've felt it too now.
The dark inside, hidden from light,
eating and eating,
this mental anguish,
so I understand,
so much so sometimes,
I've found myself jealous,
but I cannot join you
at least not for now.
Your great mind,
my dear friend,
her bright star,
your place at my table still set,
I hope to improbable gods,
your last thoughts treated you well,
and I hope
my fondness, my admiration,
not just for your great mind,
but you as well,
I hope you remembered,
and I hope I delivered,
I hope my friendship proved even slightly worthwhile,
as yours to me, will be with me always,
so I hope as you hung there,
your last thoughts were relief,
of good friends and your family,
our adventures, your cat.
We will all miss you, XXXX,
I miss you and love you,
Yet, I know what you'd say,
at which I can't help but laugh,
"**** it up, don't waste your time."

Thank you and safe travels, sir.