The Butterfly and the Crow

A sinister crow, flying low
Seemed quite fat and content.
A butterfly on air, seemed quite debonair,
But a malcontent in truth.
A coat of black was deathly stark,
A patterned wing was heaven's arc.
And so the two commingled briefly,
Breaking each the other's heart.
It seemed the butterfly must kiss the crow
A belle in truth, must love a beau.
And now the two, though still imprisoned
Fly through heaven, One, Division.