There are days when I allow myself a passing thought,
And very occasionally,
Waste that precious thought on you.
I feel compelled to slap and scold myself, if I wasn't aware of how childish it would be,
For I am not unaware that nobody ever really stopped thinking about you,
No one who survived the mess you made,
And who continue to thrive even as we are all forced to behold the aftermath,
We can never forget you,
Many will never forgive you,
Not in their heart of hearts,
Even if the day should ever ring when He forgives and demands us all to do the same.
Of course if that impossible day came, we'd all throw our heads back,
And thrust our voices into the air harmoniously,
We would all sing of redemption,
I have a feeling you would know better.

As for me, no, I don't miss you.
Not even in the earliest days of your fall,
When I had to help rebuild our lands,
Our sanity,
And especially our hearts.
Obviously you will never find out what it is like to be a true older Brother,
The way I found out in those early days,
When I had to explain to the younger ones,
With tear-scarred faces, and even more brutalized memories,
Where so many of their siblings had gone,
Why they would never come home,
How they were now the enemy,
And why they were never allowed to love them again…

It broke my heart no less than theirs',
For the hand I once held close in trust to become the hand that tries to destroy all I know,
The welcoming arms I took my first flight into to be used for blasphemous gestures in convincing evil,
Warm, bright smiling face that encouraged me to carry on with God's strength soon twisted and drunk with mad power,
You fell,
I took my own stumble,
For angels have their own childhoods too, that is something people often forget.
Filled with light and games,
Soft feathery hugs and pinkie promises of eternal love,
Brothers forever indeed, we both fell that day,
You from grace,
I from childhood.
I believe it truly happened the moment I first saw your weapon fly past my head in the final battle,
When it truly dawned that you were no longer testing me to make me stronger,
But that you aimed to kill.
No longer were the sunny days of youth spent dancing in the clouds with big brother,
Only times of blood and betrayal, ripping through the earlier chapters of our life like an angry storm,
From which the skies would never be quite as blue again.

But I do suppose,
I have to thank you for everything you did,
Including the whole in my chest.
In every sense, without you I would not be the one I am known as today,
From you comes my knowledge of sweep and swipe, to strategize and be bold,
I am the Glory that I am through Morning Star's help, I cannot lie.
And from your attempts to destroy your pupil, even then you have taught him,
Not from your own experience that I took,
But from where you failed.
That to be great one must behave with grace,
To be great is to give up selfishness,
I am Saint Michael Archangel, the Protector.
Despite my armor and sword, I am not violent,
It is my life to hold the small and defenseless close,
Despite the consequences, despite the wounds I may receive from blocking the bullet,
To graciously give my own strength to those who need it,
To never betray them,
To be the REAL Big Brother,
That you had failed to give to me.