She was fast approaching the conclusion that faith is not a straight line, unless one is steadfast and clear and willing to take that risk, to step out to the edge and travel beyond the doubts… to support another in their pursuits, perhaps… in the full knowledge that one knows nothing about what lies in the distance…
That faith and willingness to trust in one to whom she felt she owed her very breath, one person, that had plucked her from the road to self-annihilation on which she had traveled for so long, and set her down on a clearer path. The sign posts she had been seeking were pointed out and she began slowly, gradually, untangling the maze of confusion that had, so far, defined her existence.
She had begun emptying her cup, which had been overflowing with murky waters and reclaimed that which was hers, filtering the dreams, redefining her reality, she stepped out to the edge to look over into the immeasurable, her eyes wide with wonder, her heart filled with awe… The one in whom she had placed her faith was forever by her side trusting and trusted, tangible and intangible, moving at great speed and immovable…
Her endeavors, though altered beyond recognition were yet unchanged… Feelings, she reminisced, in pure sensation wrapped, forever alternating within frequencies dictated by her surroundings… She had faith in the real, unreal, ideological foundations of truth from which creativity is conceived… Maintaining a fluid dialogue in a state of consciousness had become the norm…
She walked and ran and talked and studied and expressed without a single thought of specifics… Knowledge, clarity, passing years… Time indulging her hunger, swallowed down in great gulps… Changed and yet unchanged she maintained her faith, building upon it, following its ebb and flow… cognizant of the sign posts, to form a straight line on the meandering path, rocky and smooth, to which there is no end…
~ A Matter of Faith
An Abstraction
by Annyash B. Arriffe
©2010 Annyash760. All Rights Reserved.
You may be on day six, or day thirty-two of an assignment, however, good or bad, it is always day one of your life…
~Annyash760
There is a mist that veils our true intentions…
I am thinking about genius… watching, studying, reading… philosophers, teachers, scientists, writers, artists, musicians… creative minds of different types… the makers of things that affect our lives, the gatherers of thought who channel higher ideals, who translate to words what we can only feel… I am thinking about genius, the extension of man, of woman and of every being… I am thinking about genius, it is a rare and wonderful thing…
~ Thinking About Genius
by Annyash760
© 2009 Annyash760
"Be observant and take nothing for granted,” she said.
I watched her as she smoothed a wrinkle from her stockings.
“You will be tripped up by your assumptions, so leave nothing
to chance.”
She blinked her dark brown eyes at me and fluttered her thick
lashes in a comical fashion, before she continued saying,
“Observe, calculate, project and then act, but don’t let appearances
cloud your judgement.”
“How do I do that?” I asked.
She twisted her strong, youthful frame this way and that in front
of me, as if she were checking the drape of her long dress in the
reflection of a non-existent mirror.
“Be patient, watch and listen, not just to the words, but to the
feelings they inspire,” she sighed. Straightening the straps on her
glistening shoulders, she added, “Then observe those feelings, as
if they belonged to someone else. Examine them from all angles
and be sure that you have understood what was said and what you
have witnessed. No assumptions, remember.”
She fussed with the wide brim of her straw hat and glanced down
at her high-heeled shoes.
“Be as neutral as possible,” she stated, “In calculating… this is not
for the sake of trickery, but merely for ensuring that you have not
added falsehoods, nor incorrectly subtracted from the truth of what
was imparted to you, to create an artificial conclusion, based on the
result that YOU would prefer.” She flicked at the curls of her ebony
ponytail and said, “Then, only when you have patiently worked through
everything I have mentioned, then, without reflection or affectation,
or the need for approval… act.”
“That’s good advice,” I commented.
“Yes, but will you follow it?” she inquired, turning to me with a
mischievous smile. “So, how do I look?”
Take Nothing For Granted…
by Annyash760
©2009 Annyash760.
“The Woman Abstracted”
A Digital Concept
by Annyash B. Sheriff
See full image in Gallery
I dreamt that…
I saw and felt the colors of the flowers swimming before my eyes. Thousands of shades and hues that suddenly exploded into millions of particles of colored light. The light surrounded us...the aroma… I couldn’t help but give in to what I was seeing as the particles appeared and disappeared in sharp energetic bursts. They collided with each other, brushed against my skin like tiny soap bubbles and passed though me with an ever increasing speed until I lost all sense of solidity. I became like those paricles of light moving at high speed and ever changing…
I dreamt it… but I was awake…
I Dreamt That…
by Annyash760
©2009
At dawn this morning, in between the moving around, getting ready to start the day, I caught a glimpse of the early sunrise. It was a potent sight. The clouds awash with pale crimson, a hint of pink spreading across the sky that lent its tint to everything as it leaked through the window shades, splashing onto the walls, spilling onto the floor and flooding the room with a peculiar rosy glow.
Technology is the new soul of man, or so it seems.
In the morning we awake from dreams, which we so easily dismiss as not being real, and as such, not having any bearing on who or what we are.
We turn on the television, the radio, the computer; check the internet for news, read our emails, while the coffee maker produces a drinkable brew to help us get through the day.
We download some music to a portable player, text message a friend on the way to our job, school, the unemployment office… Driving a car that tells us which way to turn. Riding a bus, on which we must have the right change or tokens to drop into the slot. Taking a subway train, onto which we shuffle in rank and file, while trying not to think about the other bodies pressing against us.
Sometimes we might wonder just who we really are, for a fleeting moment we seem unsure, then we dismiss that thought as trivial nonsense and continue on our journey along the road.
Technology feeds us, body, mind and soul, carries and protects us, educates us, categorizes us and tells us our worth. Our mentality depends on it, without it we’re lost. Like survivors on a deserted island, we would wander, mumbling incoherently, wondering what happened to the subliminal causal effectual stimulants that controlled our being.
But are we missing something more important? No-one knows, or cares, it seems, that we’ve been lulled into a digital slumber. Ah, whatever!
I’m out of here…
One to beam up!
