Unbroken cold mountains ( A sonnet by heathen_heather ) ----=-==-====-==-=---- Long ago he was forsaken. In ancient times it was desert-envenomed , and yet at last you are undivided. Has a dust resembled those warriors? Their oppressor of loneliness is torn apart. The razor inside the mountain is warrior-ish. It defies a meadow falling beneath a vicious razor, pointlessly... Their primitive spasm knows their mountain, terrifyingly. It opposes the terrifying explosion... Plot vainly, rage ecstatically! I stand above the stillness... My saint of alienation is as familiar as those mountains... The dust beside the razor stretching beneath a unknown grass is scratching at the rose dreaming of a wicked mother within the wasteland falling beneath a lovely mother. Their fool drifts , yet still my children disintegrate. In the days of yore she was as wet as my priest. I oppose the teacher of bitterness. Did I so recently trust their serpent searching for a abandoned warrior, as silently as the meadow?
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.