Flowers of stone shone under the stars,
In a moonless night of despair and anguish,
With a sense of emptiness after lost delights.
The future showed a promise of betrayal and death,
In the garden of obliviousness and disdain,
It could have been a sign of dust and destruction.
Flowers of bones lay beneath a hollow tree,
Ancient, like the empty sky quilted with tears and sighs,
Unpleasant to look at, as under a wicked spell.
A glimmering seal of dreams and illusions became the portal to endless magic,
Fading away like a cloud of smoke,
Prematurely falling into the forgetfulness.
Magic madness to escape horror and dismay,
Casting spells over the infinite emptiness,
Where the imagination is the only saviour.
Stupor of mind when the darkness swallowed every light,
Hallucinations of ethereal beauty and mystical delight,
Lost in the labyrinth of dreams, where reality bent and twisted.
Under the infinite gloominess,
Whispers of ancient lore filled the night,
Weaving tales of yore,
While, in the stillness of shadows, dreams soared.
Stars shimmered above as a celestial vision of bliss,
And in the garden of time, echoes of memories were traced,
While arcane secrets were revealed in the wind’s embrace.
Amidst the murmuring trees, where shadows silently ruled,
Fragments of longings lingered in the night’s obscure realm,
In the abyss’s deepest caverns, memories were engraved.
In the depths of solitude,
Through the veil of illusion,
Where time was excluded,
Mysteries lay secluded like flowers of stone inside a cryptic vault.
Esther Elizabeth Racah
