Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.031 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.

Whispers of the past

by Richard

0.1952 − 0.4014i

Drawing the boundary…

A Better Resurrection

by Christina Rossetti

0.1648 − 0.4077i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Whispers of the past

by Richard

In the stillness of the night.
A love beyond sight.
Memories come alive.
As shadows dance and thrive.

Empty room, shadows on the wall
I see your face, hear your gentle call
A year has passed since you slipped away
Now your ghost haunts me every day

Whispers of the past, echoes of your smile
Memories that last, if only for a while
The ghost of you lingers here with me
A bittersweet reminder of what used to be

Young love in uniform, we ran away
Against all odds, we seized our wedding day
No children to comfort, just an empty nest
Our adventures now just pictures at best

One year gone, my heart still bleeds
Your ghostly presence fills the needs
Of a lonely soul, lost without your touch
The pain of living becomes too much

Whispers fading, your hand in mine
Calling me softly, it's almost time
The ghost of you will guide me through
To where we'll finally be renewed

Tears of longing, love, and loss
As I prepare to pay death's cost
My darling, wait for me, I'm on my way
In your arms is where I'll eternally stay

A Better Resurrection

by Christina Rossetti

I have no wit, no words, no tears;
My heart within me like a stone
Is numb'd too much for hopes or fears;
Look right, look left, I dwell alone;
I lift mine eyes, but dimm'd with grief
No everlasting hills I see;
My life is in the falling leaf:
O Jesus, quicken me.

My life is like a faded leaf,
My harvest dwindled to a husk:
Truly my life is void and brief
And tedious in the barren dusk;
My life is like a frozen thing,
No bud nor greenness can I see:
Yet rise it shall - the sap of Spring;
O Jesus, rise in me.

My life is like a broken bowl,
A broken bowl that cannot hold
One drop of water for my soul
Or cordial in the searching cold;
Cast in the fire the perish'd thing;
Melt and remould it, till it be
A royal cup for Him, my King:
O Jesus, drink of me.

—
—
0:00
0:00
Track 1
Skip to main content