Till We Have Faces.
My Dear Butterfingers,
It's midnight as I write to you, and I can hear the crickets outside singing, once again, tunes of my insecurities. Silence tends to make loud noises around this time, but sometimes it can be a wonderful companion. I know this cause I've spent most of my adult years conversing with her. Never complaining, but always listening attentively with a serene violin of perpetuated solitude. I've always said that I'm an introvert, and that mostly shows itself at times like these when there's so much turmoil in my heart, I rather be alone that talk about it. But instead, for some strange reason, I've decided to write to you my Butterfingers, in hope that you always remember me in your prayers.
At the moment it feels like I'm standing between two thrones trying to find the warrior within. They say only the dead has seen the end of war while the living strive for more. We punch the air with our fists, fight for our right to love who ever we want and we take it raw, no matter the cost. And it feels like in the temple of wisdom we've turned into perverted monks cause our love tunes are missing the chords, with delinquent love stories, perverts, homos and psychos claim the ring, cupid must be really bored. Relationships have become a sad episode of half hearted devotions that end as soon as the movie script runs out. I find it funny though, that some people can be foolish enough to take movie script written by a person, who's also having a hard time keeping their romantic relationships intact, and try to make it a reality in their own lives. And they then use it their referral point for finding "Mr Right" or "Mrs Right." Therefore, by virtue of how impractical living like that is, we find a trail of broken hearts left in the dust. Don't get me wrong Butterfingers, I'm not also advocating moving to the opposite end of the scale, that of compromise and having lower standards. No, not at all. For me, ever since I heard that God is always there, even when things begin. I've decided to write His scriptures in the palms of my hands so that I can finally grasp what He has for me. I've put my head next to his chest so that I may encompass how He feels about His bride, in preparation for mine. My love story is like book with empty pages, and I'm letting Him write the script, so I can be able to read between the lines.
I am in a process of discovering myself, and God has been holding my hand every step of the way...and I've been holding on to Him with a tight grip...letting go is not an option. One thing that I've came to hold true over the years is that we're all a work in progress, and we remain so until we appear face to face with the Father, and we cannot do that until we, ourselves, have faces. Because it's through His face that we can be able to see the "Beauty's" face, and we need a face too in order to be recognisable and to actually be able to see.
And it's in silent moments like these, that God's reflection starts to reveal my face...knowing who I am, my strengths and my flaws...and together we start catching the little foxes...so that "her" face may be revealed, but all in good (God) time.
Let us remember each other in our prayers, always, Butterfingers.
With Love
Yours Affectionate Brother In Arms,
Ringtale, The Guy Who Plays A Certain Instrument.
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