A flying insect of the order Lepidoptera, distinguished from moths by their diurnal activity and generally brighter colouring
When I was a child and did not know better, I tried many times to catch one with my bare hands. Once, I succeeded and never wanted to do so again. I remember it now, it was a Graphium agamemnon which came under the Equites Achivi, the group Linnaeus named after the Greek army in the Trojan War. I felt the gentle flaps of his wings within the cusp of my hands; at first rapid and frantic, then slow and fatigued, like a heart on the verge of giving away. The butterfly faded; it was too gentle a creature between the grasp of too ignorant of a beast. Too large a beauty in too small a cage. When I opened my hands I was horror stricken. The dust that God had lain tenderly upon his wings to form the wonderment that is a butterfly was now smudged recklessly on my palms. What made it beautiful killed it, and in trying to catch beauty, I only caught death.
It is the same with love.