If you treat glass right, it doesn’t crack. If you know the properties, you can make things; the color of dusk and night and love. But you can’t control people like that and I really, really wish you could. I want the world to be glass.
my captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still / my father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will / the ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done / from fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won / exult o shores, and ring o bells! / but i with mournful tread / walk the deck my captain lies / fallen cold and dead ;; walt whitman, o captain my captain.