There was a man of glass who, despite his plight, sought another with whom to share his light.
First there came a cloth, which made him sparkle and shine, but could never utter those simple words: I think you're mine.
Next there came a moth, attracted by the moon it saw in his soul. It beat its wings against his glassy skin, but found no other way within.
Then there came a lamp. This lamp was large, almost swallowing him whole, and from its centre he shone brighter than before. But alas, it could not last, for those who saw such a sight, thanked the lamp for what she cast.
Toward the end, when he thought all was lost, there came a mirror in the form of a bulb. She too, you see, had wrapped herself in cloth, been beaten by a moth, and cast in shadow by the centre of a lamp.
It was love at first sight, yet as beings of glass, filament and light, they shattered with their first embrace, tumbling to little more, than shards upon the floor.
Though this was no end: for once they'd both been sand, nothing more, and now they were together, as shards upon the floor.
