In sheer Ambiguity.

So there she lay. Hand to her back, hand on her left breast. Was is she pain? Was she hiding her feminine nudity? Was she proud of what she had to offer as a woman, a seductive pose maybe? And her head lowered, almost kissing the ground, thanking her for making her who she is. Or is it whispering to the earth to swallow her up? Her face is covered up, she could be ashamed, she could be blushing...

Then beside her stand three of them, tall, slender, striking males. Their hearts worn on their sleeves, portraying outside what they inhibit inside. Their colors, their culture, them! But their faces have a lingering want,a longing. Their sunken eyes maybe because they are starved. Maybe because the light is to bright... their future is too bright perhaps? Or maybe they have come to the end of the tunnel and the proverbial light has shone.. Just who knows?

Yet these two, the bare woman and the covered men, all have stories to tell. Yes stories because their definitely uncertain paths seem to be imprinting more than a set of footprints.. And such are we all. In sheer ambiguity, we grope in the dark, looking for our place, our perfection, ourselves.

But this sheer ambiguity holds such meaning, that we never are willing to let it go. "The thrill of the chase", 'hope for a better tomorrow'.. symbolic of the much light this darkness holds. Like the MonaLisa, we are trapped in our own conditions, our own expressions, almost comfortable in them, that no other can really know what they are, who we are. We take cover in our smear cloth, our experiences, our plans, just us. The people we know best!

Are we afraid? Like hell we are. Of what? Everything! Everything? yes, EVERYTHING! But all this everything we so dearly hold on to really does amount to nothing in the long term. When it's time and dust recalls each of us (by name)to its bowels, we leave it all behind. Yet the young and restless, the old and even more restless have ran all their lives in a marathon called life, with no winner really. Because all the prizes weren't taken home, to the bowels of dust from where we came.

Amazing.

Such meaning in sheer ambiguity