**an realistic painting that matches the essence of this poem: If you can keep your head when all about youAre 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 DisasterAnd treat those two impostors just the same; If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spokenTwisted 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 winningsAnd risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,And lose, and start again at your beginningsAnd never breathe a word about your loss; If you can force your heart and nerve and sinewTo serve your turn long after they are gone,And so hold on when there is nothing in youExcept 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 minuteWith 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! --ar 16:9** - Upscaled by <@964598472227573840> (fast)
an realistic painting that matches the essence of this poem If you can keep your head when all about youAre 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, dont deal in lies,Or being hated, dont give way to hating,And yet dont look too good, nor talk too wise If you can dream  and not make dreams your masterIf you can think  and not make thoughts your aimIf you can meet with Triumph and DisasterAnd treat those two impostors just the same If you can bear to hear the truth youve spokenTwisted 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 winningsAnd risk it on one turn of pitchandtoss,And lose, and start again at your beginningsAnd never breathe a word about your loss If you can force your heart and nerve and sinewTo serve your turn long after they are gone,And so hold on when there is nothing in youExcept 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 minuteWith sixty seconds worth of distance run Yours is the Earth and everything thats in it,And  which is more  youll be a Man, my son