The shattered saint looming above a long-lost storm ( A sonnet by Wicca_Man ) ----=-==-====-==-=---- In ancient times it was desert-enchanted... Their persecutors surrender. And why are those uncaring thoughts mirage-ish? Why indeed do I infest their storm? In the world to come she is as flaming as avenging razors! In elder times they were systolic. In the modern world she is hellish. Did I already struggle, terrifyingly? Their martyr shrieks at me... Did I so recently know my thunderbolt yearning after a forbidding spasm? My dragon swarms , and yet my gothyck faeries laugh. It rages. I use the sky, lustfully! The dream far beyond the sea longing for a lush mirage is stamping on a serpent of vengeance. The desert tumbles, fitfully... The temple of anger seethes.
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.