Lilith, Lilith wept for the moon: Its icy beauty troubled her sleep, Stirred and thrilled her breast with a tune Of crystal notes that fluttered the deep. Climbing up the tower of light, She sought the sound and followed the flame: Cold as snow, implacably white, The moon spun high and muttered her name.
White as Adam's body of yore And like that flesh she never could thrill, Far and pale as Paradise door, The vision flooded meadow and hill... She, the flame, the passionate flower, Awoke and cried for waking so soon… In a glimmering scented sleepless bower, Lilith, Lilith wept for the moon.
Lilac and lavender and hoarfrost white, My border waves its colour to the sun. Virginia stocks grow low, but everyone Gives all her colour to the questing light.
Not one that finds the day's demand amiss For gold or silver that she has to spend. The white spreads all her white: her rosier friend Shows even the petal where the canker is.
The lily's ignorant white is glad of cheer, But these are high of courage, glad are these Against all changes of the changing year, Untempered sun or overshadowing trees.
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Track 1
How this picture is made
What a fractal is
A fractal is a shape that keeps its pattern when you look closer. Coastlines, trees, shells, and weather do this. The large form and the small form are the same kind of thing. A poem can be drawn that way. The shape of the whole comes from the shape of the lines.
Primunia is the name for the source of that order: the pattern under the pattern, already there in a tree, a shell, and a verse.
How the boundary is drawn
The number under the picture is the poem constant. It is read from the build of the lines: their length, how uneven they are, the size of the stanzas, the share of vowels, and the way the lines end. A new word moves the number when it changes that build. The same poem always gives the same number.
Drawn on its own, that number sits in a quiet part of the plane, and most poems would look like the same soft disk. So the number is carried outward along its own direction until it meets the edge of the Mandelbrot set, where the shape turns sharp. The picture is the Julia set of that meeting place.
Each point on the canvas is folded again and again by one small rule. Points that stay near the rule form the dark interior. Points that rush away become the coloured bands. The hue comes from the poem constant, and the brightest bands turn toward gold. Change the length of a line, the stanza, or the vowel share, and both the number and the picture move.
What the branching signifies
Branching draws the poem as a tree. Each turn follows a line, and every smaller branch repeats that pattern. A longer line reaches farther. The letters at the start of a line bend the next turn. A higher share of vowels opens the branches wider.
The trunk takes its colour from the poem constant and warms toward gold at the tips. When the poem has more than one stanza, gold forks leave the trunk. Each fork is a stanza beyond the first, up to three. The tree divides where the poem divides. One stanza remains a single trunk.