Was it the number 13? I doubt
This primal myth had much to do
With his decision to cop out —
On a word, and we without a clue.
His issues aren’t us, but him.
For 13 years, he and I
Were friends, but always skirting the rim.
He’s gone, and I’ve no reason why.
Some private sin? We’ll never know.
One day he stood and spoke and left.
The church remains, dazed and low,
And of a blessed friend bereft.