In the dim-lighted corners of the mind's forgotten pathways,
the secrets whisper—soft as moths, silent as shadows.
"Do you hear the whispers, or are they the shadows whispering of you?"
Locked within this trunk, a cornucopia of dreams not dared have sprung,
the melodies of voices not heard above the storm's din.
Each layer peeled back reveals a cascade of forgotten sighs,
filling the void between the stars, echoing eternally.
A portal of time, cracks open between the split wood grains—
what truths lie here, hidden from sight, yet ever present in their absence?