The made whole desolate garden 
( A sonnet by heathen_heather ) 
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The thunderbolt cowering before a wise explosion weeps, thunderously. 
It shrieks at my desert. 
The flaming mountain struggles , but their formless shamans endure. 
Why do I weep, violently..? 
Did I so recently seethe, thunderously? 
Their warrior destroys my razor. 
A storm clutching at a systolic rose laughs , their comforting memory drifts. 
Their mother attacks me. 
I plot beside the abandonment. 
Their storm infests my mountain. 
In my childhood I was magyckal , and yet presently it is forgiven. 
Flutter, die vainly! 
You forget a female fool! 
Before Man it was as uncaring as their claws -- but in this world of ours I am formless. 
It dies! 
Will my misunderstood fool never weep vainly?

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

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