Frantic pangs of dismay ensnared every passionate heart,
Once it became trapped inside the abyss of solitude and delusions,
Still and frozen was this garden of sorrow and grief,
Where for each buried heart, a crimson rose arose in all its exquisite magnificence.
No mortal could have dared inside this overwhelming realm of death and love,
Whose soil was soaked in blood and betrayal,
The blood of those unfortunate who fell prey to the magic spell of poisonous passions in the midst of secrets and arcane legends.
Veiled in shadows lay the remnants of ephemeral oaths,
Of lovers who dared, then despaired and dissolved in mist,
Bound in the haunting chasms of this forsaken land,
Where fervent vows were carved on stones now cracked and senseless.
Each petal seemed to bleed, crimson-stained in sombre grace,
An epitaph for souls who perished in love’s ruthless snare,
While moonlight cast its pallid glow upon forgotten graves,
And silence reigned, a ghostly song for all who’d met their doom.
Beneath the roots, relics of devotion lingered motionless dead,
In twisted knots and burning sighs, entwined in cursed despair.
In this metaphysical world, phantoms of love and ardour abode, entangled in spectral chains,
Each sigh came to be an eerie fragment, each stroke a haunting whisper.
In the midst of the darkness, mist and hollow cries wandered, seeking the warmth of life yet condemned to eternal frost.
Whilst roses gleamed in shades both decadent and dark,
Fed by the remnants of hearts broken in bygone epochs.
Each bloom was a monument to the souls who could not part,
Bound by longings that left them to decay yet never fade.
Frantic pangs of dismay flourished in that desolate garden under the weeping moon.
A tragic fate was but just a warning and a memory of love’s cruel masquerade,
While beauty buds, yet fester, lurked in the infinite and endless void.
Esther Elizabeth Racah
