Poem fractal

Side by side

Random

0.022 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 Great Minimum

by G. K. Chesterton

−0.0103 + 0.0877i

Drawing the boundary…

An Epitaph

by Edwin Markham

−0.0150 + 0.1096i

Drawing the boundary…

The poems

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

The Great Minimum

by G. K. Chesterton

It is something to have wept as we have wept,
It is something to have done as we have done,
It is something to have watched when all men slept,
And seen the stars which never see the sun.

It is something to have smelt the mystic rose,
Although it break and leave the thorny rods,
It is something to have hungered once as those
Must hunger who have ate the bread of gods.

To have seen you and your unforgotten face,
Brave as a blast of trumpets for the fray.
Pure as white lilies in a watery space,
It were something, though you went from me to-day.

To have known the things that from the weak are furled,
Perilous ancient passions, strange and high;
It is something to be wiser than the world,
It is something to be older than the sky.

In a time of sceptic moths and cynic rusts,
And fatted lives that of their sweetness tire,
In a world of flying loves and fading lusts,
It is something to be sure of a desire.

Lo, blessed are our ears for they have heard;
Yea, blessed are our eyes for they have seen:
Let thunder break on man and beast and bird
And the lightning. It is something to have been.

An Epitaph

by Edwin Markham

Let us not think of our departed dead
As caught and cumbered in their graves of earth;
But think of death as of another birth,
As a new freedom for the wings outspread,
A new adventure waiting on ahead,
As a new joy of more ethereal mirth,
As a new world with friends of nobler worth,
Where all may taste a more immortal bread.

So, comrades, if you pass my grave sometime,
Pause long enough to breathe this little rhyme:
"Here now the dust of Edwin Markham lies,
But lo, he is not here: he is afar
On life's great errands under mightier skies,
And pressing on toward some melodious star."

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