Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: abandonment

  • Quiet Mourning

    Quiet Mourning

    Quiet mourning
    Waiting for a sight
    In the silence of the night
    When I forget to be a mortal
    Renouncing every earthy property
    In my deep slumber of sorrow and despair
    Forgetfulness is welcome in my heart
    As long as I can breath

    Quiet mourning
    Like the one of a creature made of marble
    In the middle of the wilderness
    Abandoned to my fate
    As nobody would dare to pay attention
    As I become a wandering spirit of the night

    As I dream, everything is surreal
    And I own only my loneliness and misery
    Having burnt every desire and expectation of mine
    I get ready for my burial in the garden of disgrace

    Having lost so much
    Left with castles of sand and decay
    I left illusions to guide me into the realm of deception

    Wandering aimlessly
    I didn’t find myself
    I lost my heart being laid to rest in the graveyard of memories
    I was dead
    I had no desire to be among the mortals who betrayed and plundered me
    With their ugly depravity and hideous horribleness

    I deserted all of them
    I fled the world of banality and deceit
    Not interested anymore
    I aimed to new realms and wisdom

    Hovering among shadows and ghosts
    I embraced my quiet mourning
    My stillness that made of grief and distrust
    Conscious that everything was destined for an end

    Merit and prices were far away
    As I was cast astray by the brutal chance
    In the silent cemetery of lost hopes.
    Elisabetta

  • My Illusions

    My Illusions

    My illusions concealed the bright stars and the moon. I was sure that I couldn’t rely totally on my perceptions and conceptions of life and dreams. I didn’t know anything, but the only thing I could do was cry in my loneliness on a long night when no stars and no moon were visible to my eyes. All my memories were hanging in my mind like paintings. They were like thunders during a night storm in the ocean whose foundation was made of nightmares and suspiciousness.

    Beneath the shadows of hollow trees, I found my dwelling to rest free from the clouds of anxiety and distress. No glooms of sadness could prevent me from looking at the night sky. Maybe it was just a dream, but I couldn’t avoid staring at the dark and starless firmament. I dared to question my senses, but all that I could obtain was confusion and dizziness. In a realm where everything seemed absurd, odd, and meaningless, I strove to find a sense in my ephemeral existence.

    I had ceased to comprehend what was truth and what was deception. The night with its frightful shadows and wraiths, became my loyal companion, so sweet and lovely. No one could ever separate us, not even for an instant. The magic wisdom of the gift of madness was so sublime and exquisite. Unique was the foolishness of my silent heart. Invisible and abandoned in the quest for my fate, I explored labyrinths and mangroves in the wilderness of my imagination.

    My illusions deceived me repetitively, as I attempted to sugarcoat my lonely desolation, deprived as I was of every solace and comfort. I saw the dirty squalor being put on the sacred altar of devotion and veneration. Mortal souls preferred profanities and obscenities to sublimity, beauty and virtue. The world of mortals was shamefully collapsing in front of my eyes and I preferred to shut myself down in my boundless dungeon of illusions, nightmares, dreams and hallucinations. To never be back to that false and tainted world.
    Elisabetta

  • Gilded Illusions

    Gilded Illusions

    Gilded illusions visited my dreams
    In the eternal night that enveloped me like a diaphanous veil
    I lingered far from every mortal sight
    In my dwelling made of stars and dreams

    The moon was bleeding silver onto withered blossoms
    And I was a phantom wandering through chambers carved from bone
    Among candles that wept in crystal flocks
    While silence deepened in this dark dungeon of memories

    Eerie whispers of the dead rose from broken mirrors
    From each cracked and gloomy surface emerged a spirit of the past
    Their hearts were cold and hollow for their ancient dismay
    And their anguish echoed until the stars of the night firmament

    Whenever I aimed to reach for the stars
    They disappeared into the emptiness
    Leaving me alone in my despair and decay
    While the striking of time split the silence like a blade

    No hesitation could help me to reacquire my wisdom
    I knew that I had lost my freedom to embrace a life of madness and turmoil
    Nothing could have altered this realm of death and decadence
    Every divine bliss was destroyed by my fate

    I belonged to the realm of dust and decay
    I was reduced to following the darkness
    The more I wept, the tighter drew the chains of my bondage
    All my gilded illusions faded away in the void

    Surrounded by the hollowness of dilapidated sarcophagi
    I heard lullabies of sorrow that hovered like ghouls
    Shadows long departed from the realm of life
    They waited to converge on the abyss of the underworld

    My chains transformed into silver and gold serpents
    They became my guardians in this surreal world ruled by illusion and deception
    Crowded by hissing ghosts and perpetual twilight
    And in this sublime dejection, I found my refuge.
    Elisabetta

  • Impaled By My Own Grief

    Impaled By My Own Grief

    Impaled by my own grief
    Like a butterfly pinned to a wall
    I was standing on the cold soil soaked by my own blood
    Among withered flowers infused with the scent of death
    Embracing my misery as it was a bliss for my weak heart

    Slowly unveiling the image behind the shadows hovering high
    I discovered the reflection of my true self in their shrouds
    I cried out loud, running out of tears of despair
    Dressed in the sparkling veil that the luminaries made for me
    And wearing a crown made of thorns and roses

    All the most terrible memories introduced themselves to me
    They appeared like dreadful ghouls and wraiths
    Stabbing me with their sharp daggers
    Reducing me to a relic
    In the presence of crows and dead trees

    I was an empty shell without reflection or shadow
    Whenever I was wondering, it seemed I didn’t leave any trace
    But only blood and thorns, a representation of my miserable existence
    What I was I knew not
    I became an enigma to myself

    I collapsed like a wax sculpture
    As I was an extinguished flame
    With a body stitched by bandages and shattered dreams
    Each thread was a reminder of the pangs carved all over my body
    And my heart was a crushed crystal

    The gleaming moonlight created an aura made of silver
    Spectres were floating over me
    While I was waiting for the stars to guide me
    But no sign was there for me
    Only the deepest darkness and squalid solitude

    The cruel fate had decreed my end with the worst despair of my soul
    All my cries were dispersed by the cold wind of a winter night
    Nothing more was there for me
    I had lost everything dear to me
    And a storm wrapped me in its deadly embrace

    Impaled by my own grief
    I was the embodiment of my own tragedy.
    Elisabetta

  • Leaving Myself Behind

    Leaving Myself Behind

    Leaving myself behind
    Through the pains and fears
    Anguish was my ruler
    And I didn’t demand anything
    Hurt was my soul made of pins and blood

    The roars of the demons claiming me echoed in my head
    The castle of doom was my pristine dwelling
    It was made of bones and ashes
    In the gloominess of the midnight

    I was fleeing from death to become decadence
    Leaving everything behind
    My past had crumbled to sand and memories
    Remembrances that followed me wherever I was going

    Disgraceful was my existence and only thorns stroked me
    Black roses were swallowing me like a prey
    Gloaming shadows surrounded me
    Beneath the indifferent gaze of the silvery moon

    I could only hear laments as manifestations of the night
    A mist of sorrow shrouded me like a gloomy cloak
    The cold air was full of decadence
    My heart slowed down at the sound of the drums of mourning

    I wandered beneath the barren heavens
    I had become a ghost clothed in remnants of despair
    I strived to seek refuge and rescue
    But all I could ever feel was the numbness of endless wandering

    The world around me blurred into shadows
    My realm was a graveyard of forsaken dreams
    Where even the stars had eclipsed for eternity
    And the winds sang elegies to my fall

    In this endless procession of sadness
    I was no longer a creature of the light because my heart was deceased
    But I was only a phantom dissolving into a mist
    Forever swallowed by the sorrowful darkness

    Leaving myself behind
    I left a trail of thorns and blood
    My heart was torn apart
    I was just a shadow of the underworld

    My face was carved with tears and scars
    And the paleness of death erased it all
    As if all my agony had faded like dust
    In the end, I vanished into the oblivion of forsaken sorrows.
    Elisabetta

  • Endless Despair

    Endless Despair

    Endless despair gripped my heart
    Piercing it with swords and daggers
    Fracturing the path I was walking
    Each step was a struggle against the poundage of my grief and sorrow

    The sky above me was now a dark and endless void
    Where the sun had long since surrendered its passion
    Leaving only the cold embrace of night
    A reminder of obliteration and demise

    Shattered fragments of dreams clung to my soul
    Their edges were sharp and slashed my heart
    Memories of bliss dissolved like smoke
    Vanishing before I could hold them

    I reached for something but nothing remained
    Indeed, my hands met only the emptiness
    A nothingness that mocked every effort of mine
    A silence that devoured my voice

    In the depths of this abyss
    I wondered if escape was even possible
    But I became aware that I was doomed to wander this desolation endlessly
    Forever lost and eternally broken

    Endless despair destroyed my heart
    Crushing it to ashes that the wind scattered into the emptiness
    I sought solace in oblivion’s embrace
    A cold grip that seemed to release me

    Each moment of stillness only exacerbated my misery
    Since even the quietness was full of screams and outcries
    No glimmer of light teased the edges of my sight
    Every beauty and hope vanished as quickly as it appeared in my imagination

    I was left with nothing but a bitter taste of what I could never acquire
    The hours crawled like chains across my heart
    Each tick was a reminder of all I could never reclaim
    The past and the future were both my dungeons of distress

    I remained trapped in a perpetual desperation
    I felt myself dissolving into the night
    As the ghouls of this realm were obliterating what little remained of me
    And I became nothing

    A sigh lost to the wind
    I didn’t know what I was anymore
    I felt forgotten and my spirit was broken
    Relinquished among the shadows of the dead.
    Elisabetta

  • Lost In My Hallucinations

    Lost In My Hallucinations

    Lost in my hallucinations, seeking insanity and self-destruction. I made of self-loathing my eternal anthem and favourite melody. Listening to the noise of the light of the sun when it hit the petals of my flowers, I followed my own shadow in the green meadow of hope. Kneeling down I strove to protect myself from all that dazzling gleaming since I was made of darkness and decadence.

    Lies and illusions were the source of life for my soul which sought exclusively the sweet poison of deception. Wandering beneath a sad sky deprived of stars and moon, I couldn’t take control of my fears and turmoils, I forgot my name although it was carved on every stone I trampled on. Wildly led by my shattered hopes, I roamed astray into the wilderness of aborted dreams.

    Lost in my hallucinations, I was searching for myself and the sense of life while teardrops were marking imprints on my face. Memories sounded like melodies in my ears I couldn’t avoid facing them because they were like a thick cloud enfolding my heart. And words came to my mind like thunders in the middle of the night. The silent stillness soothed me slowly in my insomnia.

    I knew not what I was really and I never saw my reflection on any mirror. I was a stranger to myself and I never met any other creatures like me. I was utterly cast away, lost in the tides of my own desolation, wondering if I ever could have been different. The scent of death enticed me to follow a trail leading into an abyss of despair, where I could embrace my complete obliteration.

    Having lost my wisdom, I discovered a new shape of fictitious reality enticed to the absurd realm of fantasy. There I was not alive anymore but doomed to inexhaustible agony, where fortune frayed like a worn-out thread spun from the hands of forgotten deities. I was the manifestation of decline and defeat.
    Elisabetta

  • Dead Dreams

    Dead Dreams

    Dead dreams haunted
    the hollow realm,
    where forgotten hopes withered
    beneath a sky
    of perpetual dusk.

    Once, this place had been
    crowded with life,
    with hope,
    with the vibrant pulse of chance.
    But those days were long gone,
    and now the only inhabitants
    were ghosts
    of forgotten desires.

    Regret lingered
    as sharp and suffocating as smoke,
    tainting everything
    it touched.

    Dead dreams lingered
    in the corners,
    hiding in the cracks of walls,
    in the dust that coated
    every room.

    The house was falling apart,
    its bones creaking
    under the strain of time.

    The windows were broken,
    the doors hanging loose
    on their hinges,
    and yet something remained—
    a presence, invisible,
    undeniable,
    watched from the shadows.

    Dead dreams whispered
    through the air,
    soft voices,
    insistent.

    They spoke
    of what could have been,
    of paths not taken,
    of futures lost.

    Their words wound
    through the halls,
    pulling deeper
    into the heart
    of decay.

    The walls seemed to close in,
    the rooms growing smaller,
    more suffocating.

    The air was thick with dust,
    with the weight
    of years.

    Dead dreams never indeed die;
    they fade,
    becoming one with shadows,
    with silence.

    The house would stand forever,
    a monument
    to what was lost,
    to what could never
    be reclaimed.

    In the end,
    it would claim all,
    just as it had claimed
    those who came before.

    There was no escape
    from the dead dreams.

    They lingered on
    long afterlife
    had left.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Forgotten Asylum

    The Forgotten Asylum

    The forgotten asylum hid in the valley of shadows, where echoes died,
    Its walls, crumbled and weary, were veiled by the mist where time had lied.
    Long corridors, wrapped in darkness, whispered with dread,
    A realm where the ghosts of mad and tortured, in their sorrow, bled.

    The halls had witnessed their last cries, their final pleas for release,
    Now silent except for the ghostly echoes of their inner disease.
    Iron gates, once symbols of imprisonment, now clanged with sorrowful wails,
    A haunting symphony of voices lost, drifting through the desolate trails.

    Broken beds, once resting places for tortured minds, now lay cold and still,
    Their occupants were gone, leaving only the echoes of their silent shrill.
    In the shrouded darkness of their final night, where daylight was barred,
    Their minds remained forever trapped, their spirits scarred.

    The night they came with lanterns dim, searching for what had been lost,
    Their steps disturbed the ancient dust, waking shadows at a cost.
    Each room they entered spoke of despair, each corner a sorrowful tale,
    Of spirits bound to this cursed place, their cries eternally frail.

    The night was crowded with eerie sighs as the moonlight cast its mournful beams,
    Dancing on hollowed eyes that stared, forever trapped in a spectral nightmare.
    The forgotten asylum was now a crypt of everlasting gloom,
    Where fear and sorrow merged in perpetual doom.

    Time itself seemed to decay within those forsaken walls,
    As the forgotten asylum’s curse wove its web through its crumbling halls.
    Tales of madness dwelled, clinging to the air’s chilled gust,
    A monument to agony, where echoes sought release from their endless death.

    Desolation seeped through the walls, and silence bore the burden of untold grief.
    As shadows stretched and sighed, embracing the forsaken lament.
    Silent screams of lost souls echoed endlessly through the abyss of darkness.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Melancholy Of Abandoned Hopes

    The Melancholy Of Abandoned Hopes

    The melancholy of abandoned hopes,
    In the abyss of the night, where shadows softly crept, dwelled the realm of sorrow and wept,
    Underneath the moon’s pale and ghostly glow,
    While the whispering woes of the night winds blew.

    Sorrow’s realm dwelled in the shadows and hid in the abyss of the night,
    Where secrets slept among ancient ruins of failed dreams,
    Ivy grew so thick to lurk the sorrow of abandoned and sick illusions,
    Once-bright ambitions now faded and torn.

    Hope lay buried in silence, where it was once born,
    In the emptiness and void of senses, now haunting and cold,
    Reverberating through halls where bliss and peace once strolled,
    Whose walls, now crumbling, spoke of days gone by.

    When hearts were full and spirits high,
    In the broken windows, only reflections of despair,
    Glimpsed spirits and ghouls who lingered, forever ensnared in hollowed traps of disdain,
    Their eyes, like sunken wells, devoid of light, told of battles lost in endless nights of death.

    The aether became thick with whispers of unkept promises,
    Of futures once envisioned, now silently swept away,
    By wild storms with hurling winds of mournful cruelty,
    Ghostly sighs carrying remnants of gloomy cries.

    Beneath the withered trees, where no sunlight dared to tread,
    Lay the remnants of fantasies, now cold and dead,
    The branches twisted with an agony within,
    Reached out in silent torments to the void they were in.

    In this sombre place, where hope had lost its way,
    Each step echoed the grief of past times,
    The path was dark, lined with ashes of despair,
    Leading to a chasm of obliviousness laying bare.

    In the crevasse of infinite melancholy, where abandonment reigned,
    The heartbeats slowed, bound by invisible chains,
    For in the land where wishes were left behind,
    Only the sorrow of shadows could be found.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

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