The Moth and The Butterfly
This is just one of the bedtime stories that I came up with to tell Little Maxwell before bed. I came up with this one on of our daily walks, picking up trash on the roads of our neighborhood. It was that time of the summer when the butterflies were out in spades and it inspired a talk about how I’ve always believed that moths were just nighttime butterflies. They aren’t bright and colorful, sure, but it’s because they don’t need to be. They fly at night when it’s dark!
That talk, however, gave me the inspiration for this story. Enjoy!
The Moth and The Butterfly
Once upon a time,
there was a Goddess who lived alone in her vast moonlit kingdom. Her beauty made the stars shine and the night flowers reach up toward her unerring light each night that she passed by their meadows. She stroked their petals lovingly, trailing her fingers over their feather-soft flesh. The birches would bow as she glided by, the willows dancing in her presence. The Oak-Mothers* straightened proudly, showing off the strong branches she had crafted them and their plentiful children clinging to their leafy gowns.
The shining Goddess was kind and soft, adoring of all of her creations, but for all of the love she had for the flowers, the stars, and the trees, she was alone. Never had she seen another who was like her. Never had she encountered another who could create as she did.
Until one shining night, when her light became shadowed by the form of…another.
He stood, watching her from afar as if she were some dazzling and curious bloom. The God was tall and strong. There were antlers set high and proudly upon his crown. The stranger stood with a carved spear of yew in one hand and a garb made of some sort of fine, silky brown pelt. He did not approach at first, simply watching her as if trying to decide what manner of being he had stumbled upon. She could understand the feeling.
The Goddess’ heart leapt with joy at the sight of another being such as she. The earth burst forth and bore forth the most dazzling array of poppies and violets that had ever been seen, her power boiling over at the happiness within her heart. When a playful vine of morning glory coiled softly up his spear, the light leaves sprouting forth a single purple flower, she gave him, at last, a soft smile.
He gave her one in return and quietly came to sit by her side.
In the short time that they had together, the two laughed and talked more than the Goddess could ever remember doing before. Unfortunately, it was not to last.
A troubled frown spread over the God’s brow after some time.
The light of the Goddess was growing ever brighter by the moment. His time with her had come to an end.
In his last moment before he disappeared back into the wilds, the God gave his shining love a single, chaste kiss. A kiss that left a spark of magic tingling upon her lips.
His presence left her both bright in body but sad in spirit. If it had been such a very long time since she had seen him that first time, how long would she have to wait until he came back into her life? Would he ever come back into her view again?
Desperate to find some ray of normalcy, she did the one thing that she always did. She grasped that spark of magic that he had left behind and created.
Instead of her usual array of blooming things and greenery, though, what came forth from that tiny spark was a tiny…creature. It was soft and delicate, like the finest flower. More fragile than the night-blooming cereus, more vibrant than a red poppy bud. It was his kiss, brought back to her in the beautiful winged form of a small creature no larger than her palm. It had wings, brightly colored as any wild flower, and powdered like pollen had landed on their flat surface. Two tiny antennae shifted lightly from atop it’s rounded black head.
She decided to call this diminuitive winged thing a butterfly. And already, she had a particular purpose in mind for it. A purpose she knew then, that had been in her heart all along.
The Goddess sent the creature out with a message painted across it’s fine downy wings. She sent her messenger out to find the God that she had come to adore.
Bright and beautiful, her messenger was perfectly suited for the sunny day where the God did dwell.
Until it returned, she traversed her lands of the night as always: alone but with a fervent wish within her breast.
And return the butterfly did, but not alone.
Her kiss-creation came back with another. Another winged, delicate thing that flitted amongst the moonbeams, a creature so intent on her that it was her very light that gave it direction. As the pale, soft one alighted on her outstretched hand, it whispered to her of its name and its purpose.
‘Moth,’ came the voice, so light that the night breeze nearly carried it off and away.
‘Masterpiece,’ the Goddess sang back, joy blooming in her heart because beneath the lightly furred exterior of moth’s body, she could see the same kiss magic that had been gifted to her.
Moth and Butterfly fluttered about and played together amongst the flowers of the field, a joining even if only in bond, for they were each made from the same shared spark of magic. A kiss shared very briefly between a Goddess and her God.
From that day on, the two winged beauties carried messages of love back and forth between their creators, carrying their kisses across the earth. At least, until the next eclipse when the Goddess and her love may be reunited again, even if only for that brief moment when moon and sun are joined in the sky.
So next time you see a moth or a butterfly, don’t think of them as a pest or a thing to be captured for its beauty. They are messengers of the Goddess and God and you never know. They could be carrying a kiss back to a lonely heart in that very moment.
Fin.
With Peace and Passion!
Ta!
Little Journeys Everywhere 