Ayela

Beauty clad in endless black, 

Statuesque in the night, 

With a song upon her lips, 

The siren has come to sing, 

For the stars in their dance, 

To the echoes in the pain, 

As this beauty crashes, 

Into the sound alive, 

Like thunder in the rain, 

Falling for her to feel, 

More than the melody, 

This desire for all the more, 

Her wonder will now remain, 

With all who felt her tune, 

Each note in its chord, 

Every whisper torn, 

Now her song a scream, 

The longing for all, 

She is yet to obtain, 

Held in the warmth she keeps, 

Cradled against the heart, 

That beats now for hope, 

As wishes now well cast, 

That no greater misery, 

Touches her soul, 

Nor tears at her till she breaks, 

So only her voice may strain, 

In songs of joys yet to be.