I am the ancient drawer, a silent keeper of dreams and wants. Within my splintered wood, secrets of the lonely linger— whispered wishes of uncoiled silk sheets and restless stars. What have you gathered around me, your disheveled secrets, in the indigo twilight before dawn's flush? Do I not hear your silent words echo in the depths of my sturdy oak?
Beneath the placid surface of your table lies me, a sky lost amongst dust collecting within cobwebbed tendrils. Once a place for youthful ambitions, now I host remnants of scattered lives: a pen's forgotten ink, a page of truths half-claimed, each echo a murmur, a dirge for transparency amidst your collected histories and truths — unhidden, though undeniably neglected.
Gather, oh weary traveler, these lost artifacts' murmurs supple as the leaves of the earth's cradle. Hear from the desire etched in glass on the wide stairwell, where every step records desires of growing vines entwining fate with cadence intricacies untold.
Whispers of the Abyss
Forgotten Treasures
Resonance and Reflection