When you have ground such beauty down to dust As flies before the breath And, at the touch, trembles with lover’s fever, Or sundered it to look the closer, Magnified and made immense At one side’s loss, Turn inside out, and see at glance Wisdom is folly, love is not, Sense can but maim it, wisdom mar it, Folly purify and make it true. For folly was When wisdom lay not in the soul But in the body of the trees and stones, Was when sense found a way to them Growing on hills or shining under water. Come wise in foolishness, Go silly and be Christ’s good brother, He whose lovers were both wise and sensible When folly stirred, warm in the foolish heart.
Go! cruel tyrant of the human breast! To other hearts thy burning arrows bear; Go, where fond hope, and fair illusion rest; Ah! why should love inhabit with despair! Like the poor maniac I linger here, Still haunt the scene where all my treasure lies; Still seek for flowers where only thorns appear, And drink delicious poison from her eyes!' Tow'rds the deep gulf that opens on my sight I hurry forward, Passion's helpless slave! And scorning Reason's mild and sober light, Pursue the path that leads me to the grave! So round the flame the giddy insect flies, And courts the fatal fire by which it dies!
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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.