An empty life became a monument to emptiness,
A celebration of nothingness in an empty universe,
Among shadows and darkness, where silence ruled.
Ghostly whispers were ephemeral vestiges,
Of delights lost in forsaken dwellings,
Houses crumbled in hollow valleys,
Under the glare of dark clouds, forever forced to roam.
An empty life drifted through the gardens of thorns,
Where vibrant screams faded into mere sighs,
And undisclosed dreams perished.
The clock ticked slowly, its hands wearied,
Time grieved softly, though none were teary,
Chasing phantoms of faded grace,
In a world stripped bare, devoid of space.
Empty chambers lit by the dimmest light,
Once filled with the ardour, they were now eerie mazes,
With portraits of eyes that once sparkled with lively glee.
Staring blankly beyond imagination,
In the mirror, an outsider’s mask,
Reflected haunting reveries in this empty space,
A life once painted in vibrant hues.
Grey blood was a relic of a cruel fate,
Each day, a raindrop fell behind the silver surface of a mirror,
In the void’s embrace, where expectations grew thin.
Lost in the labyrinth of despair,
An empty life drifted, gasping for air,
The garden once bloomed with bright colours,
Now lay barren, devoid of light.
Withering petals like dreams left behind,
In the stillness, a haunting echo of the mind,
Once, delight and joy filled every creaking stair.
And so silence weaved its cloak of despair,
The fervour of a touch now was just a ghost,
In this empty life, memories tormented the most,
Cobbled paths led to nowhere forever.
With dreams forgotten, everyone would have taken their vow,
To wander aimlessly, in shadows confined,
In the emptiness, where no solace could ever be found.
A glimmer of hope in a world turned bleak,
Finally, every endeavour felt cold and weak
As the sun set low on a weary spirit,
An empty life remained beyond control.
Esther Elizabeth Racah
