Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.040 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.

Upon your held-out hand

by Dylan Thomas

−0.1162 + 0.1796i

Drawing the boundary…

Black Box Paradox

by Richard

−0.1507 + 0.1595i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

Upon your held-out hand

by Dylan Thomas

Upon your held-out hand
Count the endless days until they end,
Feel, as the pulse grows tired,
The angels’ wings beating about your head
Unsounding, they beat so soft.
Why count so sadly?
Learn to be merry with the merriest,
Or (change the key!) give vent to utterances
As meaningless as the bells (oh change the life!),
The sideboard fruit, the ferns, the picture houses
And the pack of cards.

When I was seven I counted four and forty trees
That stood before my window,
Which may or may not be relevant
And symbolise the maddening factors
That madden both watchers and actors.
I’ve said my piece: count or go mad.
The new asylum on the hill
Leers down the valley like a fool
Waiting and watching for your fingers to fail
To keep count of the stiles
The thousand sheep
Leap over to my criss-cross rhythms.
I’ve said my piece.

Black Box Paradox

by Richard

Brain's a mystery, a million firing stars
Chemicals and whispers, forming who we are
Memories like phantoms, flickering in the night
Thoughts a tangled circuit, bathed in neon light

We build these machines, with logic cold and clean
But the human equation, a puzzle yet unseen

Black box paradox, can't crack the code, you see
Inside our own reflections, the greatest mystery
AI's a mirror, reflecting back the unknown
Is consciousness a program, a seed we've yet to sow?

Download dreams and visions, in a digital embrace
But can we upload feelings, the magic of the human race?
Learning's an explosion, synapses on fire
Is there a spark of something more, a flicker of desire?

We build these machines, with logic cold and clean
But the human equation, a puzzle yet unseen

Lost in the labyrinth, the map is in our minds
But the path to understanding, a riddle yet to find

Black box paradox, a future yet to unfold
Humanity's reflection, a story yet untold

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Track 1
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