A sudden flash of light erupted between them, flitting him in the face. He blinked, and for a moment, focused away from her and looked down towards the source. 

A repetitive wave slow and ominous echoed in the silence between them as they beheld each other, the low frequency sound it made fluttering like the dying flaps of the wings of a butterfly.  

In the middle of her chest, there resided a glow that engulfed that portion of her, possibly even the source of her power.  

A long gash centered in the middle of her chest stretching inches apart. Small veins of opaque energy snaked through her chest along the lines seemingly drawn across her upper torso. 

Further inside, there was a dimensional rift the size of a dinner plate spun at the pace of a snail counterclockwise. Mists of light and writhing tendrils of energy wafted from and around the female’s body, the rift itself hummed in unison with her heartbeat. It was like her very existence consisted of all creation itself wrapped inside the delicateness of her bodice, a physical cocoon of ephemerality waiting to be shed in the coming metamorphosis of newer, ever evolving life. Moreover, the energy itself was beyond verbal description. Yet, it felt ancient, patient, conscious, and ambivalent. Benevolent almost from an impressionable stance. 

A galaxy lay in the center of the rift, the galaxy itself being of a barred spiral variation. But unlike any other known form, this galaxy had not one, but three bars. Along the ends of each bar, two spiral strands individually outstretched in their given direction. This irregularity was inexplicably incalculable that in many ways, it was like the universe itself has manifested this paradox in order to explore its own self self-contradictory nature. The spirals themselves appeared to be almost like an armillary sphere, but created in such a way that the galaxy itself comprised the sphere, while the stars and nebulae wove the rings and strands, with the dust and gas clouds that encircled and maintained the perpetual motion of the rift in permanent balance. In the center of this irregular galaxy, the core was of a hexagram design, with the points themselves in the shape of a compass star, or even the North Star.  

And this, coupled with the light enticed the male so much so that the more he stared at the celestial body pulsating in her chest, that without his knowledge, his left hand began to hover over the rift, proceeding to reach into it. 

As his hand hovered centimeters from the spire of light from the core, he heard a voice deep as the hidden veil echo in hear. 

He froze, unable to ascertain the voices point of origin, and it was in that brief pause that same time so did she. Or rather, she was the one frozen in time, and he was simply apprehensive. 

I—I--  

Ah, she moaned, and suddenly time resumed its consistency in pace. And with that, the man's thoughts on the loss of space were left unassumed and resumed his intimacy with the woman. A cold shiver lingered in his spine from the experience, but the sensation quickly melted away as he felt himself etching ever deeper into her being. 

Here. Now.  

Within. Without. 

Always. Never. 

Total. Impartial. 

 

There they were: two figures lying against each other, limbs upon limbs, arms upon arms. They kissed and kissed and kissed: the male figure in darkness and the female figure in light, intimate in the most utmost of aspects, and yet individually separate in others. Moving in unison, one taking and one receiving, the two were not two, but neither were they two of two. They were one. And as one, they strove to release and absorb all that one could encompass: time, space, emotion, thought, and feeling. 

Thrust. 

Thrust. 

Please, baby. Let me give it to you. 

Thrust. 

Thrust. 

Thrust. 

Thrust. 

...

 

Suddenly she arched her back and exhaled sharply, and he felt her quiver; she held him even more tightly, as she suddenly shivered when the level of ecstasy mixed with overwhelming pleasure from the change in pace, had begun to intoxicate the one that they became. It was like a drug, only it wasn't of the mind, nor the body—it was for the soul: the one they were was being stimulated by the union of all that they had been. 

They’d become existence itself. Wrapped in the very fabric of the universe, they seemingly embodied that which was the wholeness of the paradoxical and paracausal spectrum of reality, folded in and upon itself. Each of them embodying that which upholds nearly every natural and material law. 

The man was the darkness, and the female was the light. 

A union of two opposing forces, similar in making, but different in conception. 

“Shhh, it’s okay” cooed the Darker One, “I’m here. It’s alright.” 

Thrust. 

Thrust. 

Thrust. 

A small voice echoed in the void, soft and almost impossible to hear. It was calling a word. A name. It was a name.