Whispers of the unturned pages,
where shadows dance upon forgotten ink,
a dance you know, yet do not recall.
You walk these lines,
carved from dreams half-remembered,
paths traced by footsteps not your own.
In this tome, the grains of sand slip,
each moment a silent echo,
reverberating through the halls of your mind.
What story do you seek,
in the margins of another's life?
Or perhaps, one that belongs to you?
Beneath the quill's touch,
lie secrets entwined in golden threads,
a weaver's pattern lost in the tempest of time.