There is so much attraction to be found in the birth of any beauty. It’s pressure pushes out. Its gravity pulls it back. The weight of its wings are strong, though heavy, as if the weight of the ocean is raining down. As this beauty unravels and begins to separate, it tries so hard to run in different directions. The wings take the shape of something as majestic as a horse. Every piece, not broken, but no longer together, transforms into a butterfly, only to be brought back into a kingdom in which its crown is symmetry, and complete balance. This explanation defies logic, but how can one even begin to understand beauty in the first place? And so it goes with the universe, and our attempt to understand its beauty in which we see.