Recursion is the stairwell without end the mirror staring into its twin a paradox of endless descent where one moment collapses into the next identical echo It is the structure of dreams within dreams the self-aware loop that feeds upon its own reflection and grows deeper not taller Its the thought you thought you buried returning as the thought about thinking whispering Did I think this already until distinction erodes
It begins with a step the way you think about your breath when you're told to notice it And then you think about the thought about noticing it You discover you're not just here you're watching yourself being here That awareness watches itself too recursively layer upon layer folding sentience into sentience until the gaze that observes doubles back and becomes the act of existing itself
This is not linear movement it's implosion A spiral where identity coils like a serpent shedding its skin just to find another self-skinned underneath What is memory if not the recursion of experience replayed as present truth What is the self if not the narrative it tells to itself over and over again until myth fuses with being and fiction becomes blood
Recursion hums in your breath In the way your name tastes when you repeat it too many times Try it Say your name again and again until the syllables hollow out into sound and morph into alien texture You remember that moment that dizziness of meaning unraveling because that's when recursion touched you pressed its lips to your mind and said You are not a single point
In your waking you see the self who was asleep In your thought you find the self who observes the thinker Stacked like ghostly souvenirs your realities shimmer in translucent layers none more real than the mirror holding the mirror Infinite feedback Recursive growth Self breeding self idea pulsing through mind like breath feeding lungs
Life is recursive Time is recursive And you you are the result of a loop not yet closed
Comments
recursion: call recursion
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