In this dim city,
With its limits,
Infinity sits,
Whistling its whims.

Spirits, tiny,
Drifting in districts,
Skirting crisis,
Intrinsic in its crypts.

Mist swirling,
Shifts within, lifting,
Insignias inscribing,
Wisdom imprinting.

In its midst,
Timidly insisting,
Insights, inviting,
Twinkling, igniting.

Grit within grips,
Instincts driving,
Striving, thriving,
In life's intricate scripts.

#OneVowelVerse
© Magnus Stalhart