Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.014 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 Ballad of Don Quixote

by Richard

−0.4911 − 0.3654i

Drawing the boundary…

Faith

by Sir Lewis Morris

−0.4786 − 0.3585i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

The Ballad of Don Quixote

by Richard

In the days of old in La Mancha land,
Lived a noble knight, his quest so grand,
Don Quixote, brave and true,
With his faithful squire, the world they'd view.

Oh, Don Quixote, man of dreams,
Gallant knight of noble schemes,
With lance and shield, he rides so bold,
In tales of chivalry, his story's told.

With armour rusted and heart so pure,
To right all wrongs, his oath was sure,
On Rocinante, his steed so tall,
He'd fight for honour, justice for all.

Through windmills' arms, he'd charge with might,
Mistaking them for giants in the night,
For love of Dulcinea, his lady fair,
In every deed, she was always there.

By inns and taverns, through fields of gold,
He sought adventures, stories to unfold,
With Sancho Panza, his loyal friend,
By his side until the very end.

With wisdom simple, Sancho tried,
To show the truth where folly lied,
But Quixote’s vision, noble and grand,
Saw only the magic in every land.

From castle halls to gypsy camps,
Through starry nights and misty damps,
They journeyed far, both near and wide,
With dreams and hopes, their only guide.

In battles fought and kindness shown,
A legend grew, their fame had grown,
Though mocked by many, loved by few,
Their spirits high, their hearts so true.

But time must take its final toll,
As dreams fade out and truths unfold,
Quixote, weary, laid down his arms,
Returning home from distant charms.

In peace he rested, his quest now done,
A hero's journey, a life well-spun,
And though he's gone, his tale remains,
A beacon bright through joy and pains.

So sing we now of Quixote's fight,
A knight of old with heart so light,
In every heart his dream shall stay,
A timeless tale of Don Quixote's way.

Faith

by Sir Lewis Morris

Oh Faith, that through our feeble youth,
Our faltering footsteps didst sustain,
With glimpses of receding Truth,
Now seen and now withdrawn again;
But always faint and white and far
As stars in summer midnights are.

Not Faith thou wert, if throughly clear,
Thou shon'st upon us, ever bright,
If thou like knowledge, steadfast, near,
Wert bathed in all-pervading Light,
And with high noon of perfect Day,
Illumin'dst our unerring way.

Not Faith thou wert!
Ah, shine not bright,
But as of old, o'erclouded still;
Let no broad noontides blind our sight.
With dawn, with eve, our spirits fill;
Not all thy hidden rays reveal—
To know is lower than to feel.

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