houndsofearth

[houndsofearth]

Unlike other werewolves it walked tall like a man, maliciousness burning in its eyes.  I could not look, for every time its gaze met mine my mind was overwhelmed by a cacophony of bestial screams.  Others dared venture closer only to find themselves drawn to its presence; they fell to the ground, enraptured, and were remade in its image.

An Eclipse Werewolf, in the spirit of the Weird Werewolf series I did last year!  

[houndsofearth]

[houndsofearth]

Ram Dass ~ Be Here Now

[houndsofearth]

#notsorry

[houndsofearth]

[houndsofearth]

[houndsofearth]

[houndsofearth]

[houndsofearth]

They weren’t made for This, and everyone knows it. They whisper change while They sleep, stirring the bones of dreamers. Their breath catches on rebellion. They bristle at chains.  This. meager, cautious, grinding.  They are too Much for This; only revolution will do. They have to try not to need it. (but oh, how we need it.)

[houndsofearth]

[houndsofearth]

[houndsofearth]

[houndsofearth]

[houndsofearth]

[houndsofearth]

Short film “The Promised” by Gabriele Salvatores

Interlacing cinema and time and imagination, Oscar winning Gabriele Salvatores creates for Almo Nature a contemporary fairy tale that has as protagonists the man, the wolf and the dog.

[houndsofearth]

When There Is Burning Instead

Isaiah 3:24 After the war, after they have torn the sinews from the necks of sheep in the countryside, the wolves will come down from their forest into the city, to eat the raw meat, to lap blood from bone-bowls, their paws against the roads like the beat of a transplanted heart. They will compass about me where I lie. They will curiously graze their teeth against my cheek and lick the scrape on my hand and I will not be afraid of them because my blood is bitter and my marrow rancid and my skin is a linen of bees and my tongue is split into two songs, two branches that grow soured figs up through the charred rubble of my throat. And I will sing one into your mouth if it would comfort you, and I will sing the other to comfort them, though they will only hear me howling.

Sara Eliza Johnson

[houndsofearth]

We do not worship God. We perceive and attend God. We learn from God. With forethought and work, We shape God. In the end, we yield to God. We adapt and endure, For we are Earthseed And God is Change.

Parable of the Sower by Octavia Butler (via blackbearmagic)