growing

circle silent and alone, among these vacant halls of stone, empty lungs for want of air, no more altitudes to dare, leaning into skies that blend, where spirits rise and then descend, as wraiths among the city streets, where chaos and potential meet, in sharing grow beyond the frame, somnambulistic pale refrain, so subtly slip between the seams, it's only grace that truly beams, and renders clear the way ahead, it's not in spleen but heart instead...