Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.047 apart. A smaller distance means the lines are built more alike.

This number is read from the build of the lines. The bright edge is that number, carried outward until the pattern repeats.

Echoes of Elara

by Richard

0.1242 + 0.8111i

Drawing the boundary…

You say: “Since life is cruel enough at best,”

by Edna St. Vincent Millay

0.0803 + 0.7930i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

Each poem scrolls on its own, so the two texts stay beside each other.

Echoes of Elara

by Richard

In the shadows of our memories, where the twilight gently falls,
I see your face, a fleeting trace, in the echoes of these halls.
You were my starlight, my guiding flame, in the darkness of my night,
Now I'm left with whispers, shadows and a ghostly, fading light.

Elara, can you hear me calling through the rain?
Elara, can you feel the sorrow and the pain?
In the silence, I remember all we shared,
Elara, in my heart, you're still there.

We danced upon the precipice, where the edge met the abyss,
Every touch, a sweet caress, every word, a tender kiss.
But time, it has no mercy, it steals away the dreams,
Now I'm lost in endless searching, through the fragments of our schemes.

The photographs are fading, the letters turning grey,
But the love we had still lingers, it will never slip away.
Though the seasons keep on changing, and the years may come and go,
Elara, in my soul, you'll forever glow.

In the whispers of the night-time, in the dawn's first tender light,
I hear your voice, a haunting song, calling through the night.
Though the world keeps on turning, and new loves come to play,
In the corners of my heart, you'll always stay.

Elara, my eternal, my sweet serenade,
Though you've gone, the love remains, it will never fade.
Elara, in the echoes of our past,
You'll be my first, my only, my last.

You say: “Since life is cruel enough at best,”

by Edna St. Vincent Millay

You say: “Since life is cruel enough at best,”
You say: “Considering how our love is cursed,
And housed so bleakly that the sea-gull’s nest
Were better shelter, even as better nursed
Between the breaker and the stingy reeds
Ragged and coarse that hiss against the sand
The gull’s brown chick, and hushed in all his needs,
Than our poor love so harried through the land—
You being too tender, even with all your scorn,
To line his cradle with the world’s reproof,
And I too devious, too surrendered, born
Too far from home to hunt him even a roof
Out of the rain—”Oh, tortured voice, be still!
Spare me your premise: leave me when you will.

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