Made Only of Flesh

All that is my life is made of flesh that yearns for satisfaction. My actions are a testament to the pursuit of carnal indulgence. I've danced with temptation, embraced the sweet, searing touch of lust, and reveled in the ecstasy of the flesh.

A recent brush with death brings the question of what lies beyond this existence. Teachings of old speak of sowing and reaping, of flesh and spirit, of temporal pleasure and eternal reward. They warn of eternal punishment in the fires of hell.

But what if their predictions of eternity are wrong?

What if the body of my lover now pulsing with life is all that truly is?

These were my thoughts while lying with my lover. I smoothed her hair and kissed her brow. She smiled with lips that had pursed against my hardened aching only moments before. I placed my questions aside as her fingers led me to the entrance of a beautiful flower made only of flesh.