Dear Butterfly,
Your beauty has increased since I last brought you into my chest, and, recently you’ve been competing with the sun, I crave to sit beneath and within you. The man you once knew has cocooned, and the man that has been birthed is more distant, more lonely, and more embracing; while this letter may have come from delusion, the intention is to clear the confusion in my own heart and open myself to loving, I am embracing the solitude that your departure left. We implant images of people in our head, and allow the imagined selves to rule our hearts, and limit our love, but this illusion must be worked through and cast aside.
I imagine myself being a lotus flower blooming in the muddy waters of the Yangtze river, and you a butterfly that has landed on my petal. As your wings slow down against the wind, I imagine, you balancing yourself onto me, and, your presence, while ever so light, rocks the flower creating ripples in the water. The beauty of being seen makes those years of anonymity suddenly become points of conversation, and if we can be vulnerable enough and strong enough to truly reveal ourselves a renewing sense of security overcomes us. This space becomes both nurturing and life sustaining. Which is why when the moment is suddenly snatched away we often become desperate for the affection; life is about transition, I assumed your presence would last forever, and when dark clouds began to hover over us, thunderstruck, and the rain began to fall I continued to focus on you. You flew away when the water began to flood, and as my roots lifted from the ground I began to wither. You flew to safety, but could I expect you to wait for the water to settle and potentially drown?
After 111 years the water receded, and the seeds that fell from my source began to plant themselves; this flower soon began to bloom, against all adversity, and rose every morning to greet our solar systems brightest star. Every morning, during the first few months of the bloom, the flower waited for the wind from your wings; the wind that caresses instead of destroys. As the days passed I understood you wouldn’t be coming to bless me with your presence, and I would have to learn to live with heartbreak. I would have to learn to live with regrets, and accept that people can leave as quickly as they stormed into your life.
I would have never let you go if I knew the last time I touched you it would be the last time; time is treacherous. On the ride home from our last encounter my phone shuffled to Al Green who said, “Don’t look so sad, I know its over, But life goes on, and this world keeps on turning.” I didn’t want the world to turn, so I began to cry; I wanted nothing else to begin without you. After many days of wishing I would feel the wind from your wings I began to embrace that while I was parched I drank from your river; while stiff I learn to dance to your rhythm; while exiled I entered your palace, and I began to appreciate that we must continue to move forward. I learned to embrace the silence of my aloneness, and accept the love I have for you, while I may never feel that wind again I can always appreciate the moment we shared.
Love,
Osiris and Obatala
