Most wicked words, forbear to speak them out. Utter them not again. Blaspheme no more Against our love with maxims learned from Doubt, Lest Death should get his foot inside the door. We are surrounded by a hundred foes; And he that at your bidding joins our feast, I stake my heart upon it, is one of those, Nor in their councils does he sit the least. Hark not his whisper; he is Time’s ally, Kinsman to Death and leman of Despair. Believe that I shall love you till I die; Believe, and thrust him forth, and arm the stair, And top the walls with spikes and splintered glass, That he pass gutted, should again he pass.
Shall I rebuke thee, Ocean, my old love, That once, in rage, with the wild winds at strife, Thou darest menace my unit of a life, Sending my clay below, my soul above, Whilst roar'd thy waves, like lions when they rove By night, and bound upon their prey by stealth! Yet didst thou n'er restore my fainting health?— Didst thou ne'er murmur gently like the dove? Nay, dost thou not against my own dear shore Full break, last link between my land and me?— My absent friends talk in thy very roar, In thy waves' beat their kindly pulse I see, And, if I must not see my England more, Next to her soil, my grave be found in thee!
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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.