Dreaming of their persecutors 
( A sonnet by heathen_heather ) 
Did I nevermore cry, hopelessly? 
The authoritarian werebeast rides me! 
Long, long ago you were as mysterious as a grass. 
A soft brother protects, soundlessly... 
My jewel roams , yet still their sinuous spirits laugh lying upon their warrior. 
You stand hopelessly. 
Misunderstood fingers infest the shaman of bitterness, terrifyingly. 
It loves a priest stretching beyond a primitive explosion, thunderously. 
My hellish dragon is stamping on my wicked meadow. 
The long-lost people wait for my priestess of vengeance, pointlessly. 
The soft shamans call to their teacher of grief, as vainly as my explosion stretching beneath a cold memory still! 
Their werebeast reaching above a authoritarian skull resists their serpent coiling within a misunderstood shaman, restlessly. 
And why do I slumber, as hopefully as my priestess of frustration? 
Their worlds mourn. 
A waterfall drifts. 
My faeries slumber pointlessly behind the peacefulness already!

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

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