A fearless sorrow was the ruler of the realm of darkness and delusions. Not even the silence would have been so successful without it.
Surreal dreams succumbed to the power of deception and fear. Nothing could have been altered, not even the cynical fate, as the grasp of sorrow and despair tore everything.
Sorrow reigned over every corner, like ivy clinging to the shadows, dragging everything into its cold embrace.
The stars themselves blinked out of existence, one by one, as if they, too, had surrendered to the desolation.
Unspoken lamentations filled the gloomy aura, and each sigh was a reminder of the weight of existence.
What once flickered with hope had long been extinguished, leaving only hollow echoes where light had dared to tread.
The horizon, once vibrant with the promise of dawn, now stood still—a jagged line dividing the unknown void from the nothingness below.
Time itself seemed to stretch and warp, losing meaning as the days merged into one endless, suffocating night.
Beneath the ever-looming sky, the earth trembled with the weight of forgotten truths. There was no escape, only surrender.
Shadows crept through every crevice, whispering the secrets of eternity lost to the wind, each moment a fading spectre of what once was.
Wandering souls, trapped between life and death, carried the burden of their broken promises.
Each anathema blossomed as a curse in the desolate landscape, where solemn echoes of laments vanished as quickly as they appeared.
There was no solace, no reprieve in this abyss; only the cold certainty of oblivion awaited, where cries were swallowed by the emptiness.
Even the world had grown tired of misery and despair. The endless night stretched on, indifferent to the mortal pains.
A fearless sorrow consumed all while the relics of longings dissolved into the void, never to return.
Esther Elizabeth Racah
