In the stillness of the night, where shadows softly creep,
Lies the echo of a whisper, where memories never sleep.
The raven sings its sorrow, beneath the moon’s pale light,
A haunting tale of mystery, in the silence of the night.

The winds of time grow colder, as autumn leaves descend,
Carrying tales of darkness, where the soul’s journey must end.
A poet’s heart now silent, yet his words forever soar,
Through halls of ancient echoes, where dreams are nevermore.

In the depths of midnight’s quiet, where the heart begins to weep,
Lingers a sorrowed spirit, in the realm where shadows seep.
The clock ticks ever softly, marking the passage of despair,
While the world remembers fondly, the legacy he dared to share.

Ode to the master of mystery, whose pen danced with the night,
In realms of gothic wonder, where darkness meets the light.
Though the mortal journey ended, his stories still ignite,
A timeless dance of shadows, in the quiet of the night.