The older brother, though young, travelled first
Across the bridge where his footsteps echoed
Fading into death's shrouded mist; forever cursed
To haunt us always, waiting to be followed.
The younger brother wept and tried to fill the
Space where his heart had always been
He tried to wish away the mist to see his
Brother's face, but engulfed in grief, he could
Not see him then.
The hollow years passed as though a torture
Where living life was only a disguise
Time seemed an enemy where tomorrows were not
The future, only places where his memories
He dreamt of a place where he might escape
And in the numbness of sleep he thought he could
Feel the tendrils of mist surround his face
And the echo of time became more real.
And so he followed his brother's footsteps into
The mist and left behind other spaces where
Hearts have been, but now he can see his
Brother's face at last, and they wait with
Open arms for others to follow them.