Love Thy Brother

Just getting started writing this sentence for this piece, I feel an unableness, like the thoughts that are to come through my fingertips and push down keys in the order they wish to be expressed in are stuck somewhere past the funnel and in the bend of a straw of thinking, and I'm sucking in breath but it's only coming out in jitters. It's a similar experience I have when I am around my brothers, because oftentimes any words I have to say get lost in the piping. But the pre-words coil around in the pool of everything primordial and I can feel them wiggling in my second brain. Because of the current piping system, those pre-words don't always get to become words - they deviate down some trachial branches and never reach utterable state. Though they aren't quite old enough to speak, they still propel me that they want out, and they must find a way to navigate through roads less traveled so as to get, if not uttered through the vocal chords, uttered via the hands, or the chest, or the other parts of the body.

The ooze that is cooking and is delivered through the pipelines is a very warm liquid, a warmth that is intensified by being near their source of heat - the heart. The heart itself is a charcoalic glow, and it borrows light only to give back twofold, as it does with temperature. As such, being with my brothers lights up the coal inside. They need not really do anything but be there, and I can feel my heart warm; I can feel it wanting to reach out to them and converse. Sometimes then, words bubble out of the pipery and pop in front of their consciousness, and more often, I simply feel the warmth, like the tips of the plug wanting to connect with the socket to complete a circuit.

When I give them that affection, the circuit completes, and there is a sense of connection there that reminds me why I call these men my brothers. When they do it as well, I am reminded. It's a wonderful feeling, though I sometimes hesitate to complete it. I have put mental bottlenecks and traffic lights all around my body and mind to regulate this process, as if its happening too much may be dangerous. It is a protection mechanism, though I don't know why, except that I have a recurring thought that says I should not show too much affection to them, lest I suffocate them, and I burn myself out. That may not be it. I have thoughts that make me feel self-conscious about putting my hands on them.

This never occurred to me as a child, eager to waddle to give hugs. The word iubire (love) was exchanged without knowing anything about it, as in, without knowing anything other than it. Now... this unableness I feel sometimes flags down the possibility of hesitation. And it is not that I do not love at all - I cannot do that, but it is that the loving is regulated, given in puffs at a decided pace.

Is it not appropriate to love without knowing anything but? As such, can I forget that otherness, and love unreservedly?

I love listening to them, talking to them, sitting with them, patting them on the back, holding them.