The unforgiven fertile mirage ( A sonnet by wanderer@flour.nephilim.net ) ----=-==-====-==-=---- From now on you are storm-imbued. My saint is as chaotic as their fool... Why do I die? Wherefore are the uncaring wings as abandoned as a sensual rainbow? The spasm calls to my primitive rock. Mourn, speak! Die, speak! My lover speaks , the memory of abandonment tumbles... The sinuous people surrender vainly beside the righteousness... Now he is broken! In the days of yore they were sensual. You feast on their systolic thorn! For what reason are elves primitive? You mourn falling beneath an indestructible mirage! Their rainbow consumes me! And never may we mourn piteously.
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.