In shadows where his heart did roam,
Jaun Elia sought a distant home.
His words like whispers, soft and deep,
In verses where his sorrows sleep.

A soul that danced with midnight’s grace,
In solitude, his thoughts embrace.
With ink he painted worlds so vast,
Eternal echoes of the past.

Through tears he found a voice so rare,
A silent scream, a lover’s prayer.
In every line, a piece of him,
In twilight’s glow, his light would dim.

Yet still his spirit lingers on,
In every word, a gentle dawn.
The timeless whispers of his art,
Forever etched upon the heart.