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I am afraid…and as the red banners are raised my fear deepens. This is the killing season and I already feel the pull like some moth towards the promise and warmth of a flame.

I am Umma. I and my brethren existed before humans traisped into the picture, but much like ore buried in the earth our purpose was only existence without a human touch.

But humans are foolish. Always thinking themselves the inventors of the universe rather than merely inhabitants therein. They did not invent or discover me I am just as I have always been… a circle never ending.

It is true human love drew us out of our self imposed stasis, irresistible and euphoric. A magnetic force, rolling off them in tangible waves. It was a thing too strong for the naive to control. They sensed it, of course, how could they not. We could see the impact it had upon them; eyes dilated, pulses quickened, breath harshened, they all but vibrated with sensation, but for us it was more.

It wasn’t physical, strictly speaking. It was guttural, pulling and pushing from our very core, a part of an inescapable path. The love seeped out of the humans and we lapped it up, hooked. In an instant everything changed.

I was the lightning which sprung between Daphnis and Chloe, the sin which passed from Juliette to Romeo, and that which Byron so eloquently described as kindled from above. I Umma die on the breath of love, a sacrifice not completely free in the giving, and am reborn as that love is spoken lip to lip.

Over enamored by your adore I reach out to touch the perfection which is true love, but the story never ends well for the moth. The beauty and purity of the flame always proves insurmountable. It is the moth which is extinguished… but I am likened to the phoenix and my cyclical path spirals ever on.

I watch as the funeral pyre, fueled by loves passionate fire, alights in their eyes. Valentine’s day draws near, the killing season is nigh, and as always I am as fearful as I am intrigued.


I apologize if this story comes off as vague or worse incomprehensible the thought behind it is simple. What is in a kiss and perhaps more interesting why do we kiss? There is one “school of thought” which claims that this is an instinctual or intuitive act, but for me this rings of “why…because”. So, for all who love questions such as why is the sky blue or what came first the chicken or the egg I ask you if kissing is instinctive what drives it?

PS in case you are curious we see the sky as blue because of how the light reflects through our atmosphere, and amphibians which evolved before birds lay eggs πŸ™‚ (sorry the science geek rears her ugly head)