When you craft something you create an eternity. When you tear down you hurt and you destroy, but anger doesn't last forever and soon your destruction is but dust under the muse of another's creation.

I tried to hold fire once...See from a distance it mesmerized me captivated me for hours at a timeThe more it danced with the wind, I felt my body sway to its rhythm I tried to hold fire onceIt's glow drew me in closerAnd although I know full well the damage that fire can do...Staring directly at it, I know it's beauty tooIt's warmth was now on my face and I couldn't imagine being in any other placeI reached out with my bare hands & it danced even moreAnd suddenly I felt it's heat deep within my coreRising like a volcano ready to eruptBut somehow balanced & purposefulI tried to hold fire once until I realized that fire held me Passionately and I was it's guiding force. If you look close enough, you'll see it dancing in my eyes, feel it in my touch, even hear it in my voice...But don't ever forget that fire consumes and cannot be contained so I must master my energetic output to control the flames.

As a teen, I heard the second Velvet Underground album, 'White Light/White Heat,' and it was too much for my limited scope of appreciation. It was intense, but I didn't get it.

A growing heat, like a million blazing suns all focused on me, lit my insides. It felt like I was being cooked in the Gabriella Roast Cooker, me spinning around-and-around to heat my flesh evenly. For some reason I was having trouble comprehending the sudden change in my revolving world as I swelled with a horrible, billowing fire.

His heat warmed her, even as her insides turned to ice.

He who sits/stands in front of the fire sees more than the flames.. He feels the heat! Too often from a distance others observe the flames only as a source of light.

The sidewalks were haunted by dustghosts all night as the furnace wind summoned them up,swung them about, and gentled them down in a warm spice onthe lawns. Trees, shaken by the footsteps of late-night strol-lers, sifted avalanches of dust. From midnight on, it seemed avolcano beyond the town was showering red-hot ashes every-where, crusting slumberless night watchmen and irritabledogs. Each house was a yellow attic smoldering with spon-taneous combustion at three in the morning.Dawn, then, was a time where things changed element forelement. Air ran like hot spring waters nowhere, with nosound. The lake was a quantity of steam very still and deep over valleys of fish and sand held baking under its serenevapors. Tar was poured licorice in the streets, red bricks werebrass and gold, roof tops were paved with bronze. The high-tension wires were lightning held forever, blazing, a threatabove the unslept houses. The cicadas sang louder and yet louder. The sun did not rise, it overflowed.

One upside of the heat. Kind of cool to see a cat pant.

He who cannot put his thoughts on ice should not enter into the heat of dispute.

The great thing about the Wilburys was that none of us had to take the heat by ourselves. I was just a member of the band. Nobody felt like he was above anybody else. We had such a good time.