Once upon a time, when I little, I would try to catch butterflies. With my own hands, no nets or traps or anything. Having many more facets in their eyes, as well as being more perceptive to changes in air pressure and the wind, such an act is fairly difficult. But like any curious 9 year old, you press on anyway, and maybe you get lucky. Today was a purple day. Small, triangular. Maybe you know about it, I just know that I grabbed it and put it into a plastic container.
The problem with catching butterflies is that they're very delicate. You can't catch them well with your hands to begin with, and when you do, you probably shouldn't have. I'm pretty sure I damaged its wings when I caught it, took off a patch of the miniscule scales that cover its wings.
So the moral of the story is not that you have to let it free, or that you shouldn't try to catch butterflies, which represent "freedom" or anything. Or that, we are butterflies, and life catches us and damages our wings. That would be