I'd want us to see the beauty almost the same

If we could shatter the walls from our eyes screens coloured in the hues of a stubborn thought from back when childhood ran along balcony edges riding toward the unknown and wild west like Winnetou— yes, the one outlawed in the present now, but no, back then we didn't know of racism; back then we saw nothing but the world’s beauty whenever lifted eyelids smiled at the sunrise; back then we simply woke convinced that the new day, always new, would reveal untold stories to our eyes; back then we didn't know that stories gather in layers beneath the lids. If we could unravel the walls from our eyes if we could crush the walls of time perhaps we would melt. Butterflies for a day, our cells transformed into diamonds would reflect the same beauty. Though no, it isn't possible. From two, another one is always born. If we were to melt our gaze, perhaps this world would be no more. Only life, pulsing ecstatically, would keep spinning us in the heavens together. If we were to melt, perhaps we would become whole. Unfolded, love would dissolve the world's screens into the clarity of light and then, perhaps, only the rebel thought would die. If we could shatter the walls from our eyes screens coloured in the hues of a stubborn thought if we could unravel the walls from our eyes if we could crush the walls of time perhaps we would melt. Butterflies for a day, our cells transformed into diamonds would reflect the same beauty. I'd want us to see the beauty almost the same.