In the shadows of twilight’s gentle hue,
John Elia’s words dance through the night,
Whispering secrets only a few knew,
A poet’s soul, in perpetual flight.

Amid the whispers of forgotten dreams,
He weaved his heart into every line,
The world, a canvas of fractured seams,
Yet his verses remained pure, divine.

Through the haze of sorrow and despair,
His pen carved paths to the unseen,
A wanderer in realms beyond compare,
With thoughts as deep as the ocean’s sheen.

In every tear and every silent sigh,
Resides the essence of his strife,
John Elia, a beacon against the sky,
Illuminating the darkest corners of life.