Look how the lark soars upward and is gone, Turning a spirit as he nears the sky! His voice is heard, but body there is none To fix the vague excursions of the eye. So, poets' songs are with us, tho' they die Obscured, and hid by death's oblivious shroud, And Earth inherits the rich melody Like raining music from the morning cloud. Yet, few there be who pipe so sweet and loud Their voices reach us through the lapse of space: The noisy day is deafen'd by a crowd Of undistinguished birds, a twittering race; But only lark and nightingale forlorn Fill up the silences of night and morn.
And is the Great Cause lost beyond recall? Have all the hopes of ages come to nought? Is Life no more with noble meaning fraught? Is Life but Death, and Love its funeral pall? Maybe. But still on bended knees I fall, Filled with a faith no preacher ever taught. Oh God my God, by no false prophet wrought, I believe still, in despite of it all!
Let go the myths and creeds of groping men. This clay knows nought the Potter understands. I own that Power divine beyond my ken, And still can leave me in His shaping hands. But, O my God, that madest me to feel! Forgive the anguish of the turning wheel.
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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.