Poem fractal
0.038 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.
0.3166 − 0.6189i
Drawing the boundary…
0.3533 − 0.6102i
Drawing the boundary…
Each poem scrolls on its own, so the two texts stay beside each other.
I am alone, in spite of love,
In spite of all I take and give—
In spite of all your tenderness,
Sometimes I am not glad to live.
I am alone, as though I stood
On the highest peak of the tired gray world,
About me only swirling snow,
Above me, endless space unfurled;
With earth hidden and heaven hidden,
And only my own spirit's pride
To keep me from the peace of those
Who are not lonely, having died.
Hence far from me, ye senseless joys
That fade before ye reach the heart,
The crowded dome's distracted noise,
Where all is pomp and useless art!
Give me my home, to quiet dear,
Where hours untold and peaceful move;
So fate ordain I sometimes there
May hear the voice of him I love.
I hate e'en music's pleasing power
When giddy crowds my tones attend,
But love to sing at evening's hour
Too sooth the sorrows of a friend.
I love to breathe the plaintive lays
That Henry's heart and taste approve,
For, oh! how sweet in tones of praise
Appears the voice of him I love!
The praises I from others hear
Some joy may to my pride impart,
But Henry's wake the rapturous tear,
For his applauses touch my heart.
From busy crowds o'erjoyed I fly
With him in lonely shades to rove,
For e'en in gayest scenes I sigh
To hear the voice of him I love.
I woo the drama's magic powers,
Seek music's ever-crowded shrine,
In learning pass the studious hours,
Or try the muse's wreath to twine;
Yet still I feel a joy more dear,
Though I these pure delights approve,
When in retirement's scenes I hear
The soothing voice of him I love.
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.
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.
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.
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