Brother

I wish to find some kindness in you where I am told there exists a wellspring. I have dug there and my hands come back scraped and dry. No trace of wetness. Unclean. You may wear a halo of white but your thoughts are not disguised behind your bespectacled eyes. How have I offended thee, 'brother'? For I shant call you father. Am I such a heathen that I do not deserve some of that brotherly love on which you stand above? How can I ask such questions? You have such power. I have none. Except that I may trespass through the window of your ivory tower and read between the lines upon your face. Am I truly the bigger disgrace?