It seems the haiku wreathe has been placed upon my pate.

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I am still... reeling... from the topic.  When one speaks of the hunt, among a few other things, I see more than the Hubble is capable of seeing.  The Hubble sees so much in so small of a space that some are impressed.  What I see, using the correct lens, pointed in the right direction?  I see everything.  As War, everything from food to breath to, well, war of course, is... the hunt.  If one doesn't hunt, war, one doesn't live, exist.  Even what is not living hunts, if seemingly ignorantly, as stars seek matter to eat into it's mass or serve as planets, galaxies seek stars, and black holes seek all even light.  Even our planet seeks us, through gravity.  Everything hunts and is hunted.  It isn't primal, it has merely become primal through our awareness, or more through our emotional realization that life is... precious, perilous, precarious.  And more, it doesn't stop at survival.  The hunt infects... or blesses... even love, right to being required for the propagation of the species... if who is the hunted and who is the prey is... often even a much deeper topic!  So primal many have sought to escape the truth of it by trying to fudge and become vegetarians, virgins, or other things, and be far removed from it all.  Some weary from it so greatly they just cease to be.  And yet they cannot escape, they merely become pure prey, unless they break and become visceral secret lethal predators, out of their mind, terrible and horribly so.  I did what I could, but there is... more there.  There is more there than I could ever put here or anywhere.

[click to read about the Hubble 'Deep Field' picture]

It was a beautiful contest.  As for me?  I don't see how I won.  But then, I wasn't judge.  I don't second guess another.  I truly enjoyed the various ideas brought to the gig.  It amazes me how much is there, and how much others really bring to things, often thinking of themselves as gentile beings of a benign nature.  Most forget, perhaps need to let go of it?  Life is hard, it requires death.  Life is bloodlust.  Seeing a housefrau turn into a Bengal tigress, though, is something that makes the dark heart of Doom... blossom.  I knew who she was.  Now, she, too, knows... Until, like the mouse she tries to be, she again hides her nature behind her skirts, protesting her innocence, like the feral child hides behind his mother.  Doom knows, and loves, the whole of it.  Oh, fine, be all shy if you like.  I myself am unsure about the correct... amount of pride... to maintain.  I believe humility is the way, at least until action is required.  Then, at those times, in truth often, there is little enough time for emotions.  To come through the other side of events, I have decided, is enough.  Too tired for pride these days in any case.  But I am still here, that too is enough.

The win went to this poem.

Blood courses through beasts,
One chases, the other flees,
Both live either way.

Now, what to do for Friday.  After some heavies?  I think I will be gentler.  While there is a time for war, there is a time for peace.  And beauty is my favorite form of peace.  If too, as a warmonger, I know that peace is just the preparation for war and beauty is often more a cause of war than peace, I will set aside my notions for just a few moments and... embrace some delicate form of graceful comeliness or other on it's own merits, isolated from the rest of mortal truths as they stand.  Beauty, as an ideal, of some sort.  I'll be thinking.  Oh, and I won't pick on women.  They must tire of beauty, as much as they enjoy it.  No, I will pick a topic most can... appreciate.

What a gas.  *grins*

Oh, I am running rough lately.  And yet?

Well, that and haiku, and a win on top of even that, leading to another hosting.

Blessings.