Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.017 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.

The Double Helix

by Richard

−0.3645 − 0.3315i

Drawing the boundary…

If Flowers Had Ghosts

by Patrick Reginald Chalmers

−0.3628 − 0.3141i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

The Double Helix

by Richard

In the dawn of time, life's mystery lies,
In the strands unseen by the human eyes,
In the heart of cells, where secrets keep,
Watson and Crick began to seek.

With paper and pen, they drew the line,
A double helix, a twist divine,
A dance of bases, A and T, G and C,
Unlocking the code of destiny.

Oh, the double helix, spinning through time,
Unravelling secrets, oh, so sublime,
From the heart of the cell to the edge of the sky,
The code of life, soaring high.

Chargaff's rules whispered in the night,
Bases pair, and the fit was right,
Adenine with thymine, guanine with cytosine,
The patterns clear, a design unseen.

X-ray beams through the crystal clear,
Franklin's images brought the structure near,
Watson and Crick, they saw the light,
In the helix form, life's guiding sight.

From the simple code, a symphony,
The human genome, our legacy,
With every sequence read, a door unlocked,
To healing hands, the future docks.

Gene therapy, a beacon bright,
Promising cures in the darkest night,
From the tiniest cell to the grand design,
A future of health, our genes align.

With every twist, with every turn,
New hopes rise, old fears burn,
In the dance of A and T, G and C,
Lies the promise of what we can be.

From Watson and Crick to the future's gaze,
In the dance of genes, our anthem plays,
The double helix, a tale of light,
Guiding humanity through the night.

If Flowers Had Ghosts

by Patrick Reginald Chalmers

If flowers had ghosts, that thin perfume 
Of buds long picked should haunt your room — 
Your room that dreams in ancient way, 
Where beaux have knelt with Spring's bouquet 
For belles in silk of Jacquard's loom: 

When wintry fields are bare of bloom 
They'd come a-tremble from the tomb; 
You'd love them when the skies were grey, 
If flowers had ghosts! 

So now, when April fires the broom 
And cowslips clamber up the coomb, 
You would not — this I greatly pray — 
Forget the friends of yesterday, 
Who spoke of her in days of gloom, 
If flowers had ghosts? 

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