An ode to a brother

Two mugs of beer stood emptied and dry. You couldn’t tell if it was an hour, a day or a decade cause when they got refilled it felt like there was no break in the continuum. What is it that forges these kind of bonds. Those that stand the test of time. Thicker than blood.

Not a single picture in our phones to prove the existence of this bond but a lifetime of memories in our minds locked away.

Chance and vicissitudes leading to our paths crossing. We were strangers when we spoke yet an instinctive familiarity lingered. It’s uncanny how wavelengths matched. I guess not so uncanny for those who were moulded by the darkness as compared to those who merely adopted it.

He stood there on a weary October night. Taking the spit in his face. The misdirected wrath unleashed upon him. The Hector to my Paris after I’d stolen Helen and brought forth the war that would change all our lives.

Never an ounce of judgement. Never a sense of debt. Two men who knew nothing but pain in love.

A toast to my brother – may the wind always be at your back and the sun upon your face and may the winds of destiny carry you aloft to dance with the stars.