The Ringtale Note.....XIII

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.

The Ringtale Notes.....XII

Marilyn Monroe.

My Dear Butterfingers,

I know it's been months since I last wrote to you. But that's largely due to a lot of things happening all at one time, deeming me emotionally and mentally unfit to write anything that would make sense. But I do hope that this letter will make some sort of sense.

There's just something about love and romance that kinda makes my heart uneasy. I don't know, I think sometimes finding yourself amid a trail of broken hearts can kinda push you back a bit. And besides, I'm an introvert, I love having my own space, and having to share my solitude zone with someone...well it kinda freaks a guy out. Yet on the other side, I'm a guy and we tend to have an infinite capacity to like...cause Cupid can be a real jerk at times. And they do say that when you take a pause from the high paced nostalgic dreams of life and pull to the side to the eternal gazes gleamed in the pale golden light of the planet's sun; where the ocean breeze bathes you with a chill of mystery, trapped in the wind as it moves swiftly to sweep the sea shore to a place where time stands still; they say love happens...naturally. So it is safe to say that where one finds himself in this love story told across many episodes in one lifetime, it's really God-ordained.

Sure enough I've seen prettier girls than her, but there's something about beauty that lies deep within. She painted a portrait that had previously been oblivious in my eyesight because of all the Marilyn Monroes I've encountered. Women so gorgeous, yet so lost in the world they so desired. Captured in images by their longing to be what they're not. A beauty so oppressive, it has intoxicated their dreams into repulsive realities of sad episodes we watch on sidelines through loud heartbeats that scream with broken chords on social statuses...She is a complete opposite. She reminded me that beauty is not just for show, but it's a mystery to the uncharted lands, a call to be enchanted beyond mere eyesight. Her, a gleaming jewel exploding out of a coal-black dull night that has magically came to life; Me, a wounded warrior with his face on the mud for having taken so much dirt from others, lying on his back so as to behold the cleansing embrace of Heaven. Her, a flower, with her scent catching the air in the full sunny day of spring, enticing, she's in the peak of her blossom. A free spirit, succinctly to where love calls on her name, an archaic love, like the stone age it's engraved on tablets in ageless ink and colour...the wonder she testifies forebears the truth of beings before time; Me, a straight G, always going by the script, I never deviate from the plan, and the current page speaks no tongues of love. So I float about like a shipwrecked sailor at sea, cause for a while love felt like illusion, a mirage that disappears just when hope starts to ignite. "Look but don't engage, lest you get your heart broken again by one of these...Marliyns" I keep telling myself.

I think at the moment, my Butterfingers, my biggest fear is that all the heartbreaks I've known might actually turn my heart cold and unresponsive even when I finally meet the Right One. Meeting the one that captures my spirit with her glaring beauty while I'm still licking my battle wound, kinda scares me a bit. So staying away becomes my default position...And it's in moments like this where I seek God's hospitality, for Him to cover my wound and show my heart how to love once again. It has been a nurturing process, which has made me look at the Beauty once more, with hope and courage that only God can bring.

Pray for me in this journey my dear Butterfingers. Your prayers and encouragements have not gone unnoticed.


Yours Affectionate Brother In Arms,

Ringtale, The Guy Who Plays A Certain Instrument