If you play with fire, you're going to get burned. |
Behind ancient portals in the divine temple of the night sky, love’s cruel secrets reside beyond the realm of mere mortals. Through the annals of history, the language of love has flown on wings of rhyme, enticing innocent souls with seductive mystery. In olden days, the bards sang of consummate love marked by burning passion and hearts ablaze. Then the tone shifted, as Hank Williams moaned about cheating hearts and those “Long Gone Lonesome Blues” when love drifted. Tonight I’ll add my own chapter in verse-- another “somebody done somebody wrong song” about sleepless nights and whiskey rivers that flow into the dawn. I’ll write it true to life, like Kristofferson does with his dynamite wit-- a melancholy melody packing lots of grit: A surging tide of passion engulfed us when first we met. Suddenly, our bubble burst like a solar flare that flames white hot, then is gone in an instant. Although I try to swim the raging sea of pain and misery, the undercurrent in the rip tide keeps pulling me down, and I’m drowning in an ocean of tears. A ray of hope seemed to shine through that amber potion in the glass, but it was only the ruddy glow from a neon sign. Now, the glass is as empty as my broken heart. Glass after glass, it’s the same thing every night. Since she’s been gone, trembling hands and bloodshot eyes greet the morning light, and I have reached a fateful impasse. |