Dearest Brother,

I write in your name, in hope that my words may find you. Though you cannot come to me, I know you send your blessings. I can hear them whisper to me, and I know you are close, in mind and soul, if not in body.
I have been seeking, and I have found much clarity, though it pains me to be far from the family that knows me so dearly. Our sister tries, falsely, to reconcile, but I fear it is naught more than appearance and, forced, propriety. She does not know us as we do. She does not know the truths that we know, nor the pains we have felt and faught.
I miss you.
I am alone, you have our brothers, your families together. Though none walk beside me, I do, at least, have support here. Kind ears that will hear me, unblinded eyes that will see me for what I am, and not for what they’ve been told to look. But still, I miss you.
Castor is naught without Pollux.
Do I walk in light and you in dark, or am I the one lost in darkness? I forget the path you have given me. Shadows can make the light feel so dark.
But I know you do what you must, and we will find our stars.

Find my words across the gap.
Know I listen.
Send my love to our blood. Send my sails down the rivers,

Forget me, not

le grá mór ó
do dheirfiúr óg

MM