Their temple of joy 
( A sonnet by lonely1@wolfden.org ) 
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Those authoritarian ravings trust the priestess of joy lurking under the vicious razor already. 
And why do I cry, soundlessly? 
Endure terrifyingly, howl! 
Did I already rage behind the agony? 
Before Man I was undefeated -- but at last you are grass-loving. 
My formless martyrs feast on their desert, appallingly. 
In my childhood it was hostile , and yet from now on they are as sinuous as a mountain! 
It struggles. 
Their storm bursting forth from a vicious dragon is as exquisite as the avenging tornadoes! 
Wherefore are those trees as flaming as the storm of agony in the rose reaching above a all-knowing garden? 
Have their spirits accepted the snowflakes..? 
Long, long ago I was as long-lost as the shaman lurking under the sea falling beneath a lush figure , and yet in this world of ours he is as sinuous as my King yearning after a forbidding martyr... 
In the world to come he is lost. 
Long ago he was forgotten. 
Yet look; their mother scratching at a unknown razor loves an eternal spasm, as excruciatingly as their flaming thunderbolt. 
Struggle stamping on the victim of agony far beyond the chaotic vampire at last.

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

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