In what distant deeps or skies.

Burnt the fire of thine eyes?

On what wings dare he aspire?

What the hand, dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art,

Could twist the sinews of thy heart?

And when thy heart began to beat,

What dread hand? & what dread feet?

There is only one religion,

the religion of love.

There is only one race,

the race of humanity.

There is only one language,

the language of the heart.

IF...

By Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting too:

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,

Or being hated don't give way to hating,

And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;

If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim,

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same:.

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings,

And never breathe a word about your loss:

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

If all men count with you, but none too much:

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,

And - which is more - you'll be a Man!

www.youtube.com/watch?v=ThapJtWKwcQ

Kalimera my dear friends!

~ Pause ~ Poem by me ~ 02.07.16 - 02.14.16

As chapters sense when to change

And time when to pause and start a-gain,

As unending days feel so very strange,

In all your happiness and pain,

Trust that you'll be moved (in shine and in rain).

As some art is gorgeously pretty yet so vain,

Yet in some: you smell biting ice, or warm rain;

Feel leaves caress with their rustle;

See each expression, sinew and muscle;

Hear water lap against a shore in a stream.

And you embrace it in, as you would a dream.

As a monument of music can leave you cold,

Yet some, is so tortuously written, so bravely bold,

Compelling in its rhythm or grit to the soul.

And it fills to the brim that immensely deep hole.

In all your happiness and pain,

Know there is awe in shine or in rain.

+++++++++++

Snapshots Layered_113_148_154_104 Streaming In Light vIII

(Brush-Textured as Ink and Watercolor)

I virtually landscaped Zane Island and am taking pictures of it with different lighting and angles.

++++++++++

Sit a while.

In silence and just listen to their past blowing in the winds.

Listen to the distant forgotten orders barked to Gunner and Bombardier.

In their hob nailed boots, puttees and sleeves rolled up.

Waiting for the barges Mog and Magog laden with Canon and shot.

They pull as one, muscles ripping and sinews crying on salt encrusted hemp.

Harder, pull together One, two, three the SMIG’s bellow

Damn them, damn them all, their eyes afire with brine and tears...

But the Gunners........ they are proud and tall.

________________________________________________

Its getting chillier in this part of the world...

Taken at the gorgeous Sim Quarterly:

maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/The%20Sim%20Quarterly/7/9/...

While I was there I was paparazzied by ThE MAd mAn iN ToWn. Check out his version of this pose and gallery of this talented photographer and give him some like love:

www.flickr.com/photos/141664176@N04/50493588603

________________________________________________

RL has been rather distracting for me lately so I've snuck off to take some pics. Wrapped up warm while venturing outside (well demons like warmer environs) and I'm wearing Clemmm's new Kitty eyes (the materials version - click to zoom in). The cat-pupil also catches the light as the eyes and head move for nice realism. I'm also wearing cinphul's furrow for a touch of otherworldly which I teamed up with Nefekalum's Uninvited as they go well together.

Lighting, black and white filters etc via Black Dragon EEP Settings

________________________________________________

Clemmm - BB Kitty /Hud Fatpack/ @Dark Style Fair till Oct 31st 2020

cinphul // furrow [sinew] @Mainstore

NT - Uninvited (with Contour) // Tattoo @Mainstore

--- PUMEC - / Mesh Ears\ - Taiga @Mainstore

[CX] Monstrum Catena - Onyx @Mainstore

Sintiklia - Hair Somnus - Naturals @Mainstore

LeLUTKA.Head Skyler 2.0 @Mainstore

-Belleza- Jake 2.1 Bento @Mainstore

________________________________________________

>> If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs and blaming it on you;

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,

Or, being hated, don’t give way to hating,

And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream and not make dreams your master;

If you can think and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with triumph and disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,

And stoop and build ’em up with wornout tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on”;

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with kings nor lose the common touch;

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;

If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run..

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,

And..which is more...

you’ll be a Man, my son! <<

- R.K. -

♥

__________________________

ᴠᴇɴᴅᴇᴛᴛᴀ sᴋɪɴs | ʜᴇɴʀɪ sᴋɪɴ -ʟᴇʟᴜᴛᴋᴀ ᴇᴠᴏ x

VENDETTA Skins Mainstore

ʟᴀɴᴅɢʀᴀғғ | ᴄʜᴏsᴇɴ ᴏɴᴇ

LANDGRAFF Mainstore

LANDGRAFF Marketplace

ᴀɴɪᴍᴏsɪᴛʏ | sʟɪᴍ ғɪᴛ ʟᴀᴛᴇx ɢʟᴏᴠᴇ - ᴜɴɪsᴇx - ғᴀᴛᴘᴀᴄᴋ

ANIMOSITY Mainstore

ANIMOSITY Marketplace

Taken in Flower of Scotland

maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Peaceful%20Shore/202/158/25

If By Ruyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,

Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,

And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;

If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,

And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

THANKS FOR YOUR VISIT AND FAVES

ON THE REACTIONS I WILL TRY TO RESPOND BACK

De plant dankt zijn naam aan de droge tussenschotten van de hauwen die op zilveren penningen lijken. Judas Iskariot verraadde Jezus voor 'dertig zilverlingen', de klassieke benaming uit de Statenbijbel. Volgens sommige volkslegenden zou Judas toen hij zich verhing de zilverstukken onder zijn galg hebben laten vallen of hebben weggeworpen; daaruit zou de judaspenning gegroeid zijn.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The plant gets its name from the dry partitions of the sinews that resemble silver pennies. Judas Iscariot betrayed Jesus for 'thirty pieces of silver', the classic name from the States Bible. According to some folk legends, when he hanged himself, Judas dropped or threw away the silver pieces under his gallows; the Judas coin would have grown from this.

Cypress Swamp (Taxodium distichum) grows near the Black Sea coast in the resort village of Maltakva (Georgia).

Таксодиум двурядный, или болотный кипарис обыкновенный — листопадное хвойное дерево рода Таксодиум семейства Кипарисовые. Предпочитает заболоченные субтропические области с высокой или повышенной влажностью воздуха.

Monologue of a tree

My sinews ache,

My pulse is thirty like November,

I slow my breath,

My photosynthesis stops…

I am not telling the Nightingales,-

The air that rests on the ravine has the smell of winter –

It shall snow…

(Translation from Georgian by Karda Kardukhi and Wally Zeno)

p r e s s . p l a y

IF you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,

Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,

And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;

If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

‘ Or walk with Kings – nor lose the common touch,

if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,

And – which is more – you’ll be a Man, my son!

- RUDYARD KIPLING (1865-1936)

THANKS FOR YOUR VISIT AND FAVES

ON THE REACTIONS I WILL TRY TO RESPOND BACK

Verklaring van de naam

De plant dankt zijn naam aan de droge tussenschotten van de hauwen die op zilveren penningen lijken. Judas Iskariot verraadde Jezus voor 'dertig zilverlingen', de klassieke benaming uit de Statenbijbel. Volgens sommige volkslegenden zou Judas toen hij zich verhing de zilverstukken onder zijn galg hebben laten vallen of hebben weggeworpen; daaruit zou de judaspenning gegroeid zijn.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Explanation of the name

The plant owes its name to the dry partitions of the sinews, which resemble silver pennies. Judas Iscariot betrayed Jesus for 'thirty pieces of silver', the classic name from the States Bible. According to some folk legends, when he hanged himself, Judas dropped or threw away the silver pieces under his gallows; the Judas coin would have grown from this.

Mood ♪♫ John Mayer - Waiting On the World to Change

‘If’

by Rudyard Kipling

And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

_______

AI generated image - Midjourney & Photoshop & ON1 Effects

Is he jealous do you think..

As he gazes out upon the new younger models..

Or does he remember back deep within his sinews because of where he landed up...

As he also faces the sea, sometimes experiencing the mild caress of the sun's embrace of his old frame...

Sometimes the wind that shivers his timbers..and deep inside his memories are stirred and then he's a sapling growing in a wood

No he's not jealous at all...

No everything's good...

Southwest Arizona, USA.

Full frame. No crop. Dedicated macro lens. No post processing.

192/365

www.catherinesienko.com

Just thought I would upload the odd photo that was sitting in the "should I or shouldn't I" upload to Flickr file

Will be viewing most if not all my contacts photos and commenting as much as I can

Thanks!!

Have a great week!

:~)

Falco subniger. This one was either really hungry... or preparing for lean times ahead, there was nothing left, a few feathers and a bit of sinew. I let the car creep along very slowly and eventually it was opposite the window.

Fanakapan's Peace for Manchester a tribute to the bombing in Manchester

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew,

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you.

Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!'

- Rudyard Kipling

talons, sinew, bones, feathers

words to describe a myth?

it's shadow freezes you to the spot.

you are dead, man.

Bet it’s wondering when the ice will melt so it can do some fishing! Bird feet are covered with scales and have very little cold-damagable tissue in them. They are mostly bone and sinew.

Venere, prima dell'alba, sorpresa sul cielo dell'Antelao.

If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,

Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,

And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;

If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,

And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

R.K.

p.s. un grazie e un abbraccio all'amico che ha svelato il segreto ...

Tyger, Tyger, burning bright,

In the forests of the night;

What immortal hand or eye,

Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies,

Burnt the fire of thine eyes?

On what wings dare he aspire?

What the hand, dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art,

Could twist the sinews of thy heart?

And when thy heart began to beat,

What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain,

In what furnace was thy brain?

What the anvil? what dread grasp,

Dare its deadly terrors clasp!

When the stars threw down their spears

And water'd heaven with their tears:

Did he smile, his work to see?

Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger, Tyger, burning bright,

In the forests of the night:

What immortal hand or eye,

Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

- William Blake

“Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more, Or close the wall up with our English dead! In peace there’s nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility; But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger: Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood.”

Melbourne, Victoria.

I don't know why the heart, my friend, in its coiled musculature

and knot of soft tissue and sinew keeps on in you and me and

that lone flycatcher pillaging the rye grass, or those shrilling

crickets or the croakers in the marsh now starting their evening

doo wop or the Black Angus, like a procession of mourners,

dragging their shadows up from the creek before they buck and run

at our approach. Or the sun, now evanescing in the dusk, arteries

streaked across the western sky, what moves it in space, across

our retinas and into the convolutions of memory? I'm lost again

in the unbroken backbeat, my friend, perpetual in my adoration.

Follow me, if you will, up this ridge road, past the horse farm

and relay towers, with their daisy chains of red lights, pulsating

to warn away planes. I love how the landscape ripples away

in every direction, a tapestry we might float above

or disappear into, a dotting of yardlights like votive candles,

fields and valleys flowing away into darkness. We have come

this far to see the northern auroras, if conditions are right,

so we pick our fenceposts to watch the heavens fill with stars:

the empty dipperful, the seven daughters of Pleiades, a trillion

more I'll never know the names of as fireflies begin to luminesce

and drift about us. We wait and watch, you patient and content

to lick your paws, incarnation of the Buddha, I sometimes think,

here to shame my lack of virtue. And when wild dogs or

coyotes howl miles away, you tip your head up toward me with such

melancholy in your eyes I know whatever life dwells inside you

longs to cross the dark ocean that separates man from dog,

two animal souls on this hill searching the distant horizon

for arcs of light, like glowing fingers, to appear and touch us.

--Miguel de Ozarko

If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,

Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,

And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;

If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,

And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son.

-Rudyard Kipling

Taken at Goatswood

Sponsored:

Avatar: The Unknown by Somnium, available at the New Somnium Mainstore.

____________________________________________

Follow me on Primfeed!

We are more than just our bodies

Joints piled on top of joints

Sinews in between like trapped spiderwebs

That tell us about proprioception or

Where our body is in space

We are more than capillaries,

An underground network of blood supply

We are more than an oxygenation machine

We are also more than aches and pains

A registration of what it is like to be human

On merely a limited physical level

We are more than

The sum of all our interior sensations

We are more than origins and insertions

Uncertain tubercles

Nerves that remind you of your physical presence

We are more than the cracks of our ankles

In the middle of the night

The bowing of our backs

We are more than feeling like

We are slowly disintegrating

Into a well organized tower of dust

We are more than aging and

What that concept allows us (and forbids us)

We are more and we may also demand more.

We are magic if we can only find it.

This is truly what it means to be human

*********************************

Above: Darling "Shear" Squire plays Black Tortoise in the outdoor play Guardians of the Earth and Sky, which took place last weekend in Chinatown.

January's Full Moon is named after the howling of hungry wolves lamenting the scarcity of food in midwinter. Other names for this month's full moon include Old moon and Ice moon although I caught something on the web last night which describes it as Stay at Home Moon 😉

I went to bed listening once again to the rain pouring over our guttering which we’d had professionally cleaned a month ago, but I woke up early as I always do and saw the light from this flooding in through the back room . I went back to bed briefly afterwards and when I got up , the weather had reverted to the Swansea Valley damp ‘n drizzlies, which soaks between every sinew , crack. and old bone in the body, Did I dream it all I wonder ?..........

model l mjranum-stock.deviantart.com/art/Star-Swept-6-313568211

texture Sirius-Devianart

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

**

If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting too:

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,

Or being hated don't give way to hating,

And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

Rudyard Kipling

-Details - just for funsy.

Bodysuit - RENIE : Poppy Bodysuit - Black

Skirt- ..::Believe::..800 - SKIRT

Hair- [Yomi] Kaida Hair

Bangs- PADO // power hair - bang

Horns- bonbon - kaori horns

Tail- [Kottr] Sinew Tail

Body- EBODY

Ramrod straight they have stood, forgotten their pride and use.

Gunners and the rankers have toiled.

Sweat ran in rain, sun, sleet 'n' snow.

Sinews and muscles torn blistered and abused on hemp and steel.

Forgotten the barges Mog and Magog from the Woolwich Arsenal heavily laden.

Straining with Canon and shot for the Ranges.

Fighting all against wind 'n' tide, floods and ebbs with frothy seahorses galore.

Their History and Pride second place to ignorant bliss.

The Face Of Buddha Challenge - Jul 15 to August 31 of 2016

www.flickr.com/groups/challenges_community_group/discuss/...

"Let my skin and sinews and bones dry up, together with all the flesh and blood of my body! I welcome it! But I will not move from this spot until I have attained the supreme and final wisdom". Buddha quote.

Excerpt from the plaque:

Kaman (Bow), Iran, late 18th century. Wood, horn, and sinew; painted and lacquered: Not only a tool for hunting, the figurative depictions on this bow emphasize the importance of riding on horseback and the kingly tradition of the hunt. Its decoration shows the stylistic repertoire of the transitional phase of Iranian art between the Zand and Qajar periods. The facial features of the figures in the depictions on the bow can be seen in the context of Mirza Baba (active 1789 – 1810), one of the most skilled artists of the Qajar period.

Memories of Fantasy Fair 2021 (Part 5 of 14)

CREDITS:

Contraption - Breath of Aillen Head *???*

Contraption - Ride of Delusion *rdeath*

Static - Seer Gloves

DeadBoy Ink - Black Crystal Kaihatsu

G-SHOT - ODIUM Outfit

Cinphul - Raptor Boots

Insomnia Angel - Death Coming Hood [noir]

GRAVEYARD - Hakai No Ryusei

Jeanette's Joint - Sinew Skins (FF2021 Limited Edition)

LOCATION:

A'Dracunas, Fantasy Faire, 2021

The Ojibwe people have an ancient legend about the origin of the dreamcatcher. Storytellers speak of the Spider Woman, known as Asibikaashi; she took care of the children and the people on the land. Eventually, the Ojibwe Nation spread to the corners of North America and it became difficult for Asibikaashi to reach all the children. So the mothers and grandmothers would weave magical webs for the children, using willow hoops and sinew, or cordage made from plants. The dreamcatchers would filter out all bad dreams and only allow good thoughts to enter our mind. Once the sun rises, all bad dreams just disappear.

My item is made with love , faith and positive energy .Even here we need legend this will catch the bad and rises the good .

------------------------------

The Big Show Exlclusivity

Opening 7 August

Attrape Moi Set

Hope you dream good :)

Canada Water’s Rafter Walk boardwalk at night

As promised, another shot of the young Coyote at play. He (or she - I really couldn't tell) was shaking the clump of bison hair back and forth like a dog with an old sock. Look at that snarl! Way to go, Coyote - you teach that ol' bison who's boss!

Coyotes, of course, are too small to do any damage to a bison, but there have been a few natural deaths among the park's bison herd, and those carcasses were quickly cleaned up by the local coyotes, ravens, and magpies. And just as a sidebar, I once stood amid the strewn bones and remaining sinews of a dead bison to get a nice wide angle shot. I wasn't able to wear those shoes for a year, due to the corpse smell. Finally I filled them with baking soda and left them in my mudroom for six months, and that did the trick.

Taking a break from coyotes now for a few days, but they'll be back...

Photographed in Grasslands National Park, Saskatchewan (Canada). Don't use this image on websites, blogs, or other media without explicit permission ©2020 James R. Page - all rights reserved.

Her eyes scan the horizon,

Her spirit pure, her aim true.

To battle, she is a lionness,

In heart and sinew too.

The sun ascends, a fiery wheel,

Lighting scars and courage both.

She fights not just with hands of steel,

But with a sacred oath.

♥

I wanted to take this young Coyote aside and offer some tips. For example: "You can't stalk prairie dogs out in the open like this. You need to use available cover - big rocks, tall grass, lay of the land." It may seem arrogant, coming from a mere human, but I know more about catching prairie dogs than Coyote does at this stage of his life. I've watched others do it. I've also watched them fail at digging (the dens are too deep), and catching one with a random frantic run (they just laugh and dive for cover).

The one time - once, in my hundreds of hours of observing activity in dogtowns - that I saw a coyote make a successful kill, it happened like this. The coyote was hiding in a shallow ditch, perfectly still, camouflaged, watching. When a prairie dog wandered too far from its burrow entrance, and had its back turned, the coyote attacked like a cheetah, in a swift, straight-ahead run. Lightning-fast; a targeted hit. By the time the little rodent saw the danger coming, it was too late. This was the same coyote I had watched failing miserably for a couple of weeks as it tried the aforementioned digging and frantic chasing tactics.

I love the intensity on this coyote's face, while its body is all muscle, sinew, and poise. It slowly crept closer and closer before breaking into a run. Good form, but a disappointing result. The prairie dogs were watching the entire time; it wasn't going to happen. However, coyotes are smart critters and they learn fast. Unfortunately, a few days later, we were hit with early snow and plunging temperatures. When I drove into the park three days ago, the roads were barely passable, the dogtowns quiet. If warmer days lie ahead, as per the weather forecast, perhaps activity in the dogtowns will resume.

Photographed in Grasslands National Park, Saskatchewan (Canada). Don't use this on websites, blogs, or other media without explicit permission ©2020 James R. Page - all rights reserved.

For the Macro Mondays challenge, Arrow. Area shown is about 50mm wide.

lavueltaaldia y bichito jugando juntos

Tyger Tyger. burning bright,

In the forests of the night:

What immortal hand or eye,

Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies.

Burnt the fire of thine eyes!

On what wings dare he aspire!

What the hand, dare sieze the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art,

Could twist the sinews of thy heart?

And when thy heart began to beat,

What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain,

In what furnace was thy brain?

What the anvil? what dread grasp,

Dare its deadly terrors clasp!

When the stars threw down their spears

And water'd heaven with their tears:

Did he smile his work to see?

Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger, Tyger burning bright,

In the forests of the night:

What immortal hand or eye,

Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

--

Tigre, tigre, que ardes con fulgor

en los bosques de la noche,

¿qué mano u ojo inmortal

pudo concebir tu terrible simetría?

¿En qué cielos o abismos distantes

ardió el fuego de tus ojos?

¿Con qué alas osó elevarse?

¿Qué mano osó tomar ese fuego?

¿Y qué hombro, y qué arte

pudo trenzar la nervadura de tu corazón?

Y cuando tu corazón empezó a latir...

¿...Qué mano terrible? ¿Qué terrible pie?

¿Qué martillo? ¿Qué cadena?

¿En qué fragua se forjó tu cerebro?

¿Qué yunque? ¿Qué puño temible

osó sus mortíferos terrores abarcar?

Cuando las estrellas arrojaron sus lanzas,

y regaron el cielo con sus lágrimas,

¿sonrió al contemplar su obra?

¿El que hizo al cordero te hizo a ti?

Tigre, tigre, que ardes con fulgor

en los bosques de la noche,

¿qué manos u ojo inmortal

osó concebir tu terrible simetría?

("The tyger" – William Blake)

hurriedly, she killed him rough

tearing free his now still heart

but alas, it still wouldn't be enough

to soothe her ache, forever apart

she screamed out to her desire,

'i've run each and every one through,

endured their lust-filled fire,

but why can't they love me like You do?'

'i've torn sinew from bone,

i've ripped them to shreds,

but nothing feels like home,

amongst the chorus of the dead.'

she offered up her murderous gift,

another lost soul, useless red meat.

then His voice sang through the rift,

attentively, she rested upon her bloodied feet.

'my love, you look so beautiful bathed in red,

and the time we reunite will be ours soon,

seek me within the throes of the dead,

never will another love you like I do.'

she rose to standing, took His command,

to find another man who'd try to lay claim.

their voice would join the choir of the damned,

she'd find His love in every bloodstain.

-------------------------------------------

the mournful widow

The council of flesh calls. Rend sinew and bone in this newest release from Somnium, fitted for Belleza Jake and Legacy bodies. Comes with a 6 color changing HUD.

Available at Midnight Order opening 07/20/2021

maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Syndicate/192/187/32

Be the lungs

Be the heart beating

Be the muscle and sinew

Be the movement

Bio-Cup 2023, Final Round; Sports.

More on Cyclopic Bricks.

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My lovely duo of dreamcatchers are authentic North American. I was so lucky to be given these for my birthday on our Flickr meet up in B.C. by dear friends Monique, Coleen, and Charlotte-thank you for this special gift ladies, I treasure these :) x

Authentic, traditional dream catchers are handmade and crafted only from all natural materials, measuring just a few small inches across in size. The hoops are usually constructed of a bent Red Willow branch covered in stretched sinews. Wrapping the frame in leather is another common finishing touch for "real" dream catchers.

Native Americans believe that the night air is filled with dreams, both good and bad.

When hung above the bed in a place where the morning sunlight can hit it, the dream catcher attracts and catches all sorts of dreams and thoughts into its webs. Good dreams pass through and gently slide down the feathers to comfort the sleeper below. Bad dreams, however, are caught up in its protective net and destroyed, burned up in the light of day.

May all your dreams be good ones x