Beauty

I see the moon and the sun. 
But both have become one.
 The starry skies are on the face, 
of a beauty with which none can keep pace.
 A smile that causes floods, 
and cleans up all the muds.

 So soft to the touch, 
the wind will blow the cotton back up,
 and it flies, soaring above all.
 Catch a butterfly with a net, but first make it fall
 just a little closer, 
and all you can do is hope for 
a chance to join her. 
To fly with the butterfly, way up there.