Activities of Lori Bergman

Rise?
Does it fall?
What goes up...
It's fleeting at best.
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Nature needn't form's and fee's...
License for the buzzing bee's.
Do we charge them per ounce or reimburse for every mile?
Would there used up wings burned upon a fiery pile?
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I am something. Stripped of my blows.
Beautiful. Without desperative throes.
Naked in my weakness. Victory for being alone. Simply put, I am enough. Worth more than my existance. Ragged yet regal. My Sacrifice adored. Rewarded for a reason. Restored. I am.
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How I imagine the earth began to grow. The way it longs to heal. Icy cold as not to feel. Fragile. Inside a protective seal. Frozen in time yet turning still. Until.
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How I imagine the earth began to grow. The way it longs to heal. Icy cold as not to feel. Fragile. Inside a protective seal. Frozen in time yet turning still. Until.
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Flowing through follicles of hair. Like the mesmerizing falls of locks on a mare. Forcing us all to stare. Into the abyss, that is earth's dance. So much flair. Existing without a care. Calling us to it's lair. Oh too be the wind. It's not fair. Seemingly so alone. Yet it's ebbs have flows. It so Sews. An unlikely pair. Sown together with care. Here, there. Everywhere. To gaze endlessly I'd pay a fare. It's too rare not to share.
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Art has layers much like love, hate, envy, ego, and even joy. It's translucent. From the moment of it's creation, it poses a question. It has endless possibilities to transform into anything the viewers make of it. It's Potential. Personalized even though it came from its own root site. It has an ebb and flow like any system. Yet it has freedom that can never be taken from it... Oh to be Art.
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It's no longer dark, though.. not when the only light left... Sits buried in chest, within so few. That part you can't get over. Sadly, we can't see our own light, so things are just this ominous gray blue.
Unbeknownst to who, the eyes of another always hold true. This world. It resembles darkness but feels somewhat new. Like how a lie rolls off the tongue when you know it be not true. It's just an illusion though, so different from that perfect scenario. So fleeting. Practically Dissolved. Never really existed. Take a look around everything's just so estuarine. Captiv-ating. Isn't it? By definition it holds us so. By design? Most certainly. Captive to some nefarious plan. Of some Women, some Man. Taken aback by my willingness to submit and... yet the undeniable urge to run carelessly into the flames to be devored in fight. Excuse my plight. What journey do thou speak of? There are no castles in the sky! Truth must merit some osspicions, but never resemble the lie. Must this be sane, or is it all in vain?
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Life.... When does it begin?
Oh contraire, monami when does it end?
Really fast or really slow?
Don't rightly know...
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Ignominy is of no reward,
it is in your yearning for greatness
that your heart is truly measured.
Fear not chagrin, stagnant in icy vacillation.
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