You were my enemy and my friend for the exact same reasons.
The only time I didn't listen to your brother is when I fell in love with you.
And don't get mad at him. He said "don't" for both of us, even if only I, ironically, heard it.
Back then, I wasn't the kind that liked to share. You couldn't get enough of it.
Though, despite the painful ending, you were one of my favorite chapters.
My darling, while not your only dimension, you are the mistress of colors.
You've owned my heart forever, and only I know what forever means. But I settled with your friendship instead.
You were a dream in many a sense.
To Darkness and Moon:
You both kept my eyes open for different reasons, but alas, both reasons were birthed from imagination.
One of you reminded me there was something to teach, and one of you reminded me of how I would teach it.
You were indecisive, schizophrenic, bi-polar, emotional, passionate, anxious and lost. Sometimes I wonder if you were the only one of us that was sane.
And then I remember how you HAD to have your way, and we always closed our eyes and pushed a "fine" through our teeth.
You tore your fill off the bone and forgot the pack.
My regret is that I never found a way to teach you what the word "brother" meant.
No one ever danced like you, even if it goes without saying. You sang your heart out and tore up your strings for me, even if you didn't know what the words meant to me.
I still smile when I remember how we used to compete. Okay, so maybe the girl with the brown and the blues smiled at you. Maybe.
But, when you burned the brightest was when we were in the snow, when the wolves descended and we ascended.
Earth deserved your father. Egoless. Empathetic. Generous. He had more sons than blood would admit.
I love you, brother.
To the Sun:
You guided me when I wandered. You protected me when I was defenseless and then you taught me how to defend myself. You taught me how to love to love, hate to hate, love to hate, and hate to love. You showed me how to be something I wasn't before. You taught me how to be a god.
And then you smiled and didn't say a word.
And then I had the strength to smile back and teach death that even he had something to fear.
I've had a journey, and that's not a complaint. I've asked the right number of questions, which is a number that doesn't exist. I've learned infinitely fewer answers. I found my real family among the stars and blood, and over the music.
I can assure you that I am not the final truth, and neither are my siblings. We are still part of only this local reality. But, if I ever had a "boss" that cared, it has never sent me a memo.
I only ever saw smiles at the summit of purpose.