Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.010 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.

Pandora's Curse

by Richard

−0.5037 − 0.1987i

Drawing the boundary…

I Have a Rendezvous with Death

by Alan Seeger

−0.5068 − 0.1892i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Pandora's Curse

by Richard

Clay molded me, a gift divine
In Zeus's garden, where sunlight would shine
The gods all warned, with furrowed brow
A jar I held, a forbidden vow

"Pandora's Box," they said with fear
"Leave it untouched, my child, hold it dear
For inside it churns, a tempestuous sea
Of woes untold, a misery"

Days turned to years, the silence grew loud
The whispers of secrets, a tempting shroud
What wonders hid, in that polished gleam?
A curiosity bloomed, a forbidden dream

"Pandora's Box," I'd whisper at night
"Just a peek inside, to set things right?"
The seal gave way, with a hesitant sigh
And a whirlwind erupted, beneath the sky

Sickness and sorrow, a plague on the breeze
Anger and envy, brought mortals to their knees
The world we knew, turned bleak and cold
A paradise lost, a story untold

Pandora's Box, a burden I hold
The weight of the world, a story to be told
But nestled within, a flickering flame
A sliver of hope, to whisper my name

Hope, it remains, a fragile thread
To mend what's broken, the words left unsaid
A curse I unleashed, a lesson learned well
Curiosity's bite, a sorrowful spell
But with trembling hands, I'll rise from the dust
And rebuild the future, in flickering trust

I Have a Rendezvous with Death

by Alan Seeger

I have a rendezvous with Death
At some disputed barricade,
When Spring comes back with rustling shade
And apple-blossoms fill the air—
I have a rendezvous with Death
When Spring brings back blue days and fair.
It may be he shall take my hand
And lead me into his dark land
And close my eyes and quench my breath—

It may be I shall pass him still.
I have a rendezvous with Death
On some scarred slope of battered hill,
When Spring comes round again this year
And the first meadow-flowers appear.

God knows ’twere better to be deep
Pillowed in silk and scented down,
Where Love throbs out in blissful sleep,
Pulse nigh to pulse, and breath to breath,
Where hushed awakenings are dear …
But I’ve a rendezvous with Death
At midnight in some flaming town,
When Spring trips north again this year,
And I to my pledged word am true,
I shall not fail that rendezvous.

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