In the realm of fantasy, fancy caprices reigned supreme,
There was nonsense, just whimsical dreams,
Fluttering like leaves in the wind,
A kaleidoscope of emotions with no end.
In the labyrinth of dreams, impulses roamed like butterflies in the wind,
Unpredictable, yet captivatingly magnificent,
Delightful and fanciful visions of never-ending desires,
Which will be buried forever in the garden of dissent.
In the garden of dissent, where secrets lie,
Fanciful visions hid beneath the sky.
Whispers of dreams, both wild and free,
Boundless imagination for all to unearth.
Amongst the flowers, where shadows ruled,
Capricious fantasies found their way into the gardens of whims.
Entwined with vanities, in an enchanted embrace,
They lingered in the stillness in secluded realms.
But unawareness misled in labyrinths of meadows and blossoms,
In the deep abyss, the essence of aether and mystery was boundless and enigmatic.
For every dream that discovered its refuge,
A new constellation in the night sky glowed.
So devotion to these caprices, both wild and rare, endured,
For in their fleeting instants lay divine enchantments.
In the realm of fantasy, where dreams ascended,
Fanciful visions bloomed in the gardens of the night.
In the realm of fantasies, where shadows appeared,
Magic terrors lurked with eerie trance.
Spells of mighty power whispered in the night,
Witches and ghosts, their presence alight.
Through moonlit woods, they roamed with glee,
Their whispers echoed across land and sea.
In the stillness of midnight’s darkest nightmares,
They weaved their spells with ancient power.
Ghosts with eyes of silver and gold, witches with cloaks of black and blue,
Their presence filled the night, leaving no track.
They cast their enchantments, with a flick of the hand,
Creating wonders and fears across the infinite universe.
But those who dared to dream too much,
Often found themselves out of touch.
For in this realm, reality might have been shredded to pieces,
And dreams and nightmares might have ruled the nights with their spellbinding fears.
Thoughts and longings whispered softly to the night,
awaiting their chance to stare at the starlight.
For in the silent realm of dreams, nothing was unconcealed,
Mysteries remained undisclosed, cloaked in the ethereal embrace of the deepest night.
Esther Elizabeth Racah