A doomed life, it once began,
Beneath the sun and stars, life’s fleeting span.
The days were bright, the nights serene,
But shadows stirred, unseen, obscene.
In the stillness of a forsaken night,
These halls were walked where shadows bite.
The walls, once lavish, now crumbled to dust,
Held secrets of lives turned to rust.
An ancient decayed portrait stares with dread,
Watching over the chambers where dreams had fled.
Fragments of euphoria, long decayed,
Whispered of joy that darkness betrayed.
Once there was light in this cursed abode,
But fate, unkind, took its heavy load.
The gardens bloomed with divine colours,
Now twisted and tangled in death’s cold design.
In those flowers, a tale was sown,
Of hope abandoned, of seeds overthrown.
Every petal fell like a broken dream,
Drowning in life’s wicked schemes.
A doomed life, it was said,
From the lips of the living and the dead.
The winds that howled through empty chambers,
Carrying the weight of ancient tombs.
The days of youthful grace are recalled,
When love lit up each weathered face.
But soon, the fates, with cruel disdain,
Bound every heart in chains of pain.
The storm rolled in with thunderous might,
Crushing hope beneath the night.
The fires of joy were smothered fast,
Leaving only ash, memories cast.
Nonetheless, these haunted walls were roamed by shadows,
Listening to the silence as it calls.
Every corner speaks of despair,
A doomed life trapped within its snare.
The halls, once bright with life’s fair bloom,
Became the dwelling of endless gloom.
Every gust, a fleeting sigh,
In this place where all must die.
And so the wandering goes on, lost and alone,
A phantom in a house of stone.
No escape from sorrow’s knife,
Bound forever to a doomed life.
Esther Elizabeth Racah
