Alcyone, my heart is yours alone,
Though waves may pull me, tearing love from shore.
Beneath the storm, the sea may drag my body,
Yet love defies the tide, it fights once more.
Fate’s hand may tear my flesh from bone,
Yet still, my soul resists the reaper’s sweep.
I will not cross where silence makes its home,
Not yet, my love. I vowed—and vows I keep.
You pull my body, drag me toward the black,
Yet love remains, though flesh may fall away.
I beg no mercy, ask no solemn pact,
For I am hers, I am bound to stay.
The tide may take, the wind may plead,
But I will not depart—Alcyone, heed.
Not yet. Not yet. Death calls, but I won’t go.
The sea may tear, but I am not undone.
A shadow lingers—whispered hands pull slow,
Yet love remains. I stay. My heart is one.
Alcyone, I call—do you still hear?
The tide may claim my breath, but not my name.
Not yet. Not yet. My vow will not disappear.
I swore, and I swear still. I’ll remain.
Alcyone. Alcyone. Alcyone.
I speak your name, though water fills my throat.
The tide may take, the reaper calls—
I will not go. I will not go.
Alcyone. Alcyone. Alcyone.
I swore, I swear, I will not fade.
If time dissolves, if fate decrees—
Still, my soul remains. Still, my soul remains.
A second voice carried upon 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑊𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑊𝑎𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔—yet echoes deceive the ear.
