In the quiet whispers of the gentle night,
Where shadows dance with flickering light,
Dylan’s voice, a haunting melody,
Echoes softly through eternity.
Against the dying of the light he stood,
A raging storm in a tranquil wood,
His words, a beacon through the dark,
Guiding souls like a celestial mark.
In the embrace of the tender, timeless sea,
His spirit roams wild and free,
Unfettered by the chains of time,
Each verse a step in his eternal rhyme.
Though the night may come to claim its due,
In every line his spirit renews,
For in the heart of the nightâs soft breath,
Lies the undying fire of Dylanâs death.