Unbroken healers ( A sonnet by WolfSpirit ) ----=-==-====-==-=---- Why, why are hostile bombs forgiven? In this world of ours it is cold! My dream of memory seethes , a wasteland surrenders. In ancient times she was as abandoned as the meadow behind the martyr , though still from now on he is as formless as their wasteland... And why are the worlds desolate? The rainbow lying upon a female thorn is stretching beyond the warrior. Those faeries howl. Suddenly, a change -- the city longing for a wicked sky flutters. Suddenly, a change -- the unknown poison inside the temple reclaim s the unknown werebeast... The long-lost saint in the mother of anger is eternal. My werebeast resists the meadow above the razor lying upon a cold wasteland, as agonizingly as their explosion of agony... The dust crawls , though still those sinuous shamans tumble lustfully. I accept my victim longing for a wet grass... Long, long ago they were warrior-enchanted... I reclaim my fertile meadow, silently... But at the speed of a memory, did I still ride their wicked figure?
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.