Flitting of Moth’s Wings

“I belong to another”, the goddess of fire said.

“It’s the end of our world, so that no longer matters”, the god of air replied.

They stand, inches apart. Naked. Their pale skin already burning from the morphing of the moon. It is an inferno. The sun, the star that used to warm them, is cold. Dead.

The goddess is with her god, finally. She knows she has always been his number one. No other goddess ever compared to her. Her beauty or her light. He always mattered to her. She always wanted more. But was tied to another life.

She professes love; obsession. Want and need. All of it, without fear.

His dark eyes bore into her violet ones. He says nothing and everything, with his gaze. He responds by leaning forward, brushing his lips on hers. It feels like the flitting of a moth’s wings near an open flame. That’s all she needs to confirm the intensity of his love for her.

They grasp each other’s bodies in want. In need. They only have a few moments. They cherish every second by kissing, touching, fondling. This is their destiny.

The end is coming soon, but they do not fear it. For they know that it is their beginning.

With their confessions given, the moon explodes. Their bodies catch fire, but their souls ascend. They become light, energy, and after life.

With their world ending, a new one begins and their love becomes infinite.

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