Do not allow
yourself         to be
a product
                              of your generation
but rather
let your generation
be
    a product        
                   of you

Glass is burned
and melted
and molded
burned
and melted
and molded
Again
And again
And again
Until it reaches its final form
Sometimes the glass is molded for beauty
Sometimes the glass is molded to be put to good use

And sometimes
the glass breaks.

Maybe the glass
falls
falls
falls
to the ground
and shatters into pieces.

Sometimes the pieces can be picked up
and reformed
into
new patterns
and new designs

But sometimes you cannot save this glass.

But
despite the fact that this glass was never finished to be
something beautiful
or something useful

It was once in the process.

It was in the process of becoming more than it was.
It's whole life
it was in the process.

Despite the fact that nobody had the chance
to stare at the beauty of this glass
or use this glass to hold their flowers,

to the glass blower

it was beautiful.

He saw it in its most fragile state
during its most beautiful times
He shaped it

deliberately

every curve

every corner

was deliberate.

Despite the fact that this glass was never used for its intent
it served perfectly
because
to the glass blower

it was beautiful.

Every stranger you are passing
Take a look at who is laughing
Who has eyes of golden brown
And whose are fixed upon the ground
Who gives you a nod, or a slight smile
Whose shoes have seen a thousand miles
Who links hands with their better half
All you notice in a simple pass

Who is happy, who is depressed
Who is kind and who's a mess
Whose day is going bad or great
This is all a simple fate

For each and every face you see
Could appear in your dream
Maybe because God wanted them there
Just for a moment, or maybe for years.

We cannot grasp infinity in our minds

Yet we hold in our heads that we are
infinite

We forget we are *not