Ashes in the Shape of You is a grand aria of Act III — Loss and Aftermath in Chains of Sorrow (Neo-Opera). It begins in quiet grief, the baritone voice tracing memory in ash and smoke, answered by a hushed chorus.

Through lyrical arioso and cantabile expansion, remembrance deepens into recognition: love remains in what endures, even as flame and presence fade. The aria rises into a determined cabaletta, where grief is not abandoned but carried forward — transfigured into strength.

This scene embodies intimate remembrance made universal, closing with the refrain: “Ashes… in the shape of you.”

[LYRICS]

The fire is gone… the room stays warm.
The smoke hangs low… the quiet forms.
The walls remember what we knew,
Outlined in ash… the shape of you.

Your touch still lives where embers stayed,
A faint perfume of what we made.
Each breath I draw pulls memory through,
From coals that glow… the heart turns true.

Ashes… in the shape of you.
No flame left… yet the burn feels true.
Every breath pulls the memory through.
From what was left… you’re all I knew.

The clock keeps time in tender air,
Yet hours pale… you are not there.
Each minute casts a deeper hue,
A room of ash… the shape of you.
I trace the marks the fire drew,
They bloom again… as if they knew.
I try to breathe a clearer view,
But smoke returns… and brings you through.

Be still… breathe slow…
Hold fast… let go…

Some flames give up to sudden rain.
Some fade so slow… yet prints remain.
I sweep the floor… the lines break through,
Drawn back to life… the shape of you.

I press my palm where soot is thin,
A shadow hand invites me in.
The room is quiet, dusk is new,
And still it writes… the tale of you.

Ashes… in the shape of you.
No flame left… yet the burn feels true.
Every breath pulls the memory through.
From what was left… you’re all I knew.

If fire must end, then let it teach.
If light must fade, what can I reach?
A softer spark, a kinder view,
A way to live… and carry you.

I lift the latch, I face the night,
I claim the wind, I keep a light.
If ashes call, I will stand new,
I will not drown in only you.
Let morning rise, let windows blue,
Let love be more than smoke and rue.
From ember’s edge a life breaks through,
I choose the path… and carry you.

Ashes… in the shape of you.
No flame left… yet the burn feels true.
Every breath pulls the memory through…
In the ashes… shaped like you.

A3-S2 — Ashes in the Shape of You (Grand Aria • Neo-Opera • Baritone & Chorus • Orchestral)

I’ve always lived at the crossroads of music and poetry — where feeling becomes form, and melody turns memory into meaning. Whether it’s a lingering jazz note, a well-placed rhyme, or a shift in tempo that tells a deeper story, I’m drawn to that quiet magic where art reflects life with a little more style.

My roots are in classic music — the kind that doesn’t chase the moment but lingers with you long after the last note. Over time, that love expanded into poetry writing and jazz — especially the kind that swings, speaks, and smirks all at once. Jazz, to me, isn’t just a genre; it’s a personality. A conversation. A little tilt of the head and a grin that knows more than it says.

When I set out to create an album, it’s rarely just a collection of songs. I approach it like a personal playlist — one that drifts and flows as if the entire tracklist were one long, uninterrupted piece. Each track leans into the next, shifting mood, pace, or voice, but always carrying the same thread of feeling. I want you to listen the way I do — not as a shuffle of moments, but as a cinematic arc. One breath that lasts an hour.

Lyrically, my work is rooted in lived experience. Sometimes it’s obvious. Other times it’s just the skeleton of a memory, dressed up in wit, irony, or longing. I draw from real-life events, then let the poet in me twist, stretch, or sweeten them to taste. Depending on the tone of the album — playful, romantic, nostalgic, or something in between — I try to keep the emotional truth intact while giving it a fresh coat of creativity. A little humor where it fits. A deeper dive where it hurts.

My newest jazz album continues this tradition — short-lined swing tracks, conversational duets, and tongue-in-cheek storytelling. It’s an homage to late-night alleyway ballads, rooftop serenades, and train station goodbyes — all bound together with a sense of charm and cohesion. Each song is its own little scene, but together they tell a story — one you can revisit with each replay.

Thanks for stopping by my profile. I hope you find something that earns a spot on your repeat-play list — a melody, a lyric, or a moment that feels like it was written just for you.

A3-S2 — Ashes in the Shape of You (Grand Aria • Neo-Opera • Baritone & Chorus • Orchestral)

Dikheel Aldikheel