My Brother

I watched him as he fell. I was a dozen yards above him, but his face was perfectly clear as he cried my name--the last word he ever said--Zor. I was thirteen years old. I was the daughter of a high ranking military officer. And I had killed my little brother.


He wasn't even a year old; he'd just begun to talk, to walk--he loved me the best of all our siblings, and clung to me with all the trust that had not yet been cynicized out of him. I was there when he said his first word--Sis--when he took his first step--towards me. He loved to listen to me sing, and I would make my way to his room every night to sing him to sleep. His favorite was about the galaxy going on forever, and I would sing it over and over until he faded into sleep. I sang it at his funeral.



Though the Galaxy

Though the galaxy goes on forever

Drifting on without end

My love remains

You can speak of love through eternity

But I love you now

You could cry

And you could die

And you could leave my side

And you could move to the next galaxy

But my love is with you here and now

Forever

Though the galaxy goes on forever

Drifiting on without end

My love remains