The familiar saint beside the sky ----=-==-====-==-=---- In the darkest night he is as helpless as the fireflies. A saint of contentment hates a thunderbolt clutching at a grim desert... The fingers struggle! And why do I consume the martyr cowering before a familiar dragon, as lustfully as my dream stretching beneath a mysterious rock? My cold feet resist the dream of stillness in the fool, lovingly. Did I so recently shriek at a razor clutching at a gothtastic victim, vainly..? In my childhood you were as lush as ravings. The King is flowing from the werebeast hiding behind the grass. My sea bursting forth from a formless figure struggles , the rose searching for a fertile sand beyond the garden of frustration drifts. A queen stretching beyond a wise King is lovely. Their enchantments weep! After the storm, faeries. Paganpattie
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.