The butterfly is a flying flower,
The flower a tethered butterfly.

How does one become butterfly?' Pooh asked pensively.
'You must want to fly so much that you are willing to give up being a caterpillar,' Piglet replied.
'You mean to die?' asked Pooh.
'Yes and no,' he answered. 'What looks like you will die, but what's really you will live on.

You are my butterfly,
and I am your flower.

The danger of parachuting young enthusiastic scientists into a flower bed of selected data and fully bloomed conceptions should be underestimated.

…I went away from your side,
in love without knowing it.
Now I don’t know how your eyes
look, nor your hands, nor your hair.
I know only the butterfly
of your kiss on my forehead.

M Butterfly.