In the old, decaying manor, where the walls bleed stories untold,
A ghostly whisper slithers through the corridors of time.
Shadows of forgotten dreams, scribbled in the margins of existence,
Flicker at the edge of reality, waiting to be remembered.
Etched upon the wind, the soft sighs of spirits long past
Call forth the moon’s pallid glow, unveiling secrets
Hidden beneath the layers of dust and despair.
Listen closely, and you shall hear their tales—
Tales of longing, of sorrow, of midnight reveries.
Amidst the cobwebbed corners, a flicker of light
Dances like a candle's flame in the tempest,
Guiding wanderers through the labyrinth of time.
Follow its path, tread softly, and you may glimpse
The ethereal visage of the one who whispers still.