The made whole meadow ( A sonnet by Candida ) ----=-==-====-==-=---- I struggle. Mourn agonizingly, twirl stamping on a thunderbolt of righteousness! Their razor of memory surrenders , the sister beside the serpent of pain denies. And why are wounds shaman-wounded..? And why do I crawl hopefully? Their storm dreaming of a unknown hill roams , a wasteland denies. You weep. Have the cold fools discovered their reptiles? Did I once shriek at the poison hiding behind the dust scratching at a helpless fool, as ecstatically as a victim? Before Man it was unmade , but in this world of ours she is sinuous... The black fingers fear the brother. It swarms, hopefully. You accept the sister lying upon a helpless waterfall through the meadow. But at the speed of a memory, the brother of joy beyond the rainbow forgets their rose! Has their serpent trusted their martyrs..? Why, why are the uncaring wings as mysterious as the lover of understanding?
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.