"Arise, depart, for this is not your rest." Oh, burden of all burdens,—still to arise And still depart, nor rest in any wise! Rolling, still rolling thus to east from west, Earth journeys on her immemorial quest, Whom a moon chases in no different guise. Thus stars pursue their courses, and thus flies The sun, and thus all creatures manifest Unrest, the common heritage, the ban Flung broadcast on all humankind,—on all Who live; for living, all are bound to die. That which is old, we know that it is man. These have no rest who sit and dream and sigh, Nor have those rest who wrestle and who fall.
I think this is the very stillest place On all God's earth, and yet no rest is here. The vapours mirror'd in the black loch's face Drift on like frantic shapes and disappear; A never-ceasing murmur in mine ear Tells me of waters wild that ebb and flow; There is no rest at all afar or near, Only a sense of things that moan and go. And lo! the still small life these limbs contain Is flowing on as those, restless and proud; Before that breathing nought within my brain Pauses, but all drifts on like mist and cloud; Only the bald peaks and the stones remain, Frozen and silent, desolate and bow'd.
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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.