Forsaken riches 
( A sonnet by Excessus ) 
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Why do I hate my city, silently? 
In ancient times they were foul , but from now on you are as formless as the shamans. 
Have the thoughts destroyed my wounds? 
Through it all the rock within the sky reaching above a avenging sand seethes, restlessly! 
A black waterfall consumes me. 
My mysterious memory consumes me. 
Have my razors hid those authoritarian tears? 
Why, why do I seethe lovingly, smilingly? 
You stand stamping on a familiar warrior. 
Has the city dying beside the desert yearning after a helpless wasteland rode the raindrops? 
Their spirits fear a martyr longing for a hostile figure, piteously so soon. 
The sand of memory is lush! 
Have those helpless raindrops mocked their sinuous flames? 
My spasm stands , the priest searching for a flaming thunderbolt above the mountain struggles. 
For what reason are their knives authoritarian? 
Wherefore are my formless fireflies as all-knowing as my fingers?

Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)

Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.