In the quiet corners where whispers dwell,
Lies a tapestry of woven tales,
Crafted by hands that softly compel,
In shadows where the truth often pales.

Veils of silk obscure the mind,
With every thread, a subtle snare,
In illusions, clarity we find,
Yet lose ourselves in the misty air.

Words like honey, sweet and light,
Masking intentions dark and deep,
Guiding hearts away from sight,
Into dreams where reality sleeps.

But as the dawn breaks the night,
The veils begin to slowly fall,
Revealing truths in morning light,
Unraveling the web that enthralls.