Tag: ancient

  • 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

  • The Eternal Tree

    The Eternal Tree

    The eternal tree in the twilight’s silent embrace,
    Where shadows curl in violet grace,
    A twisted tree of ancient birth
    Rises from the haunted earth.
    Its roots stretch deep in forgotten soil,
    Bound by grief, eternal toil.
    Above, the stars in endless flight
    Circle the tree, a crown of light.

    Once, it bloomed in hues of gold,
    Its leaves whispered stories untold.
    But now, the branches, gnarled with age,
    Bear the marks of time’s cruel rage.
    The winds that howl through empty space
    Carry echoes of a long-lost place,
    A kingdom fallen, now erased,
    Leaving only sorrow’s trace.

    Beneath the cosmic, starry dome,
    The eternal tree stands tall, forever alone.
    Its bark is scarred with memories of the past,
    Of a time when joy could last.
    But fate, in cruel jest, did tear
    The light from every tender prayer.
    Now, only shadows linger here,
    Wrapped in the tree’s eternal fear.

    The stars, once bright with hope and dream,
    Now flicker with a cold, distant gleam.
    They watch in silence as the night
    Swallows all in endless flight.
    Yet in the centre, burning bright,
    A single star, defying blight,
    Holds the memory of what was lost,
    A beacon in this land of frost.

    But even stars must fall and fade,
    Their light consumed by endless shade.
    And so, this eternal tree, with roots of stone,
    Will stand forever, all alone.
    A monument to dreams betrayed,
    In twilight’s grip, where hope decayed.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Arcane Tree

    The Arcane Tree

    The arcane tree, with ancient roots,
    Draped in mystery and twilight’s hue,
    Held secrets in its gnarled branches,
    A universe in each leaf’s dew.

    Its whispering boughs recounted stars,
    Eclipses lost to time’s embrace,
    Through ages past and futures scarred,
    The arcane tree revealed a sacred space.

    Beneath its boughs, the weary found
    A refuge from the world’s loud cries;
    Where thoughts were stilled, and dreams unwound,
    And pondered truths ascended skies.

    In its shade, ethereal dreams
    Found echoes of the cosmos’ edge,
    Where space and time were merged, refined,
    In the abyss of the universe.

    The tree’s deep roots, like ancient veins,
    Stretched through realms unseen by sight,
    Revealed secrets, primal strains
    Of cosmic mysteries and boundless night.

    The arcane tree, in silence grand,
    Bore witness to eternal change,
    Its branches reached across time’s span,
    Where stars and shadows danced in range.

    From whispered tales of distant spheres
    To secrets draped in midnight’s shroud,
    It held the wisdom of the shadows,
    In stillness, pure and deeply proud.

    Each leaf was a fragment of the whole,
    A tale inscribed in the darkest night,
    Revealing glimpses of dreams and visions,
    Where mystic realms and fantasy unite.

    The arcane tree stood timeless, wise,
    A beacon in the twilight’s gleam,
    A guide to realms where cryptic lore lay,
    And nightmares transcended dreams.

    It sheltered ancient memories,
    Of celestial wonders and fears,
    And every rustle in its leaves
    Spoke of long-forgotten spheres.

    The ancient bark, rough-hewn and scarred,
    Whispered tales of nightmares’ embrace,
    Memories of folly and joy,
    In moments lost, in endless space.

    The arcane tree stood ethereal, sage,
    A glimmer in the twilight’s gleam,
    A portal to realms where the impossible lay,
    And dreams transcended reality.

    In its embrace, the world grew dim,
    Lost in the vast, eternal sweep,
    Where ancient mysteries lured
    And revealed secrets softly seeped.

    A relic of forgotten epochs,
    Guarded realms, both seen and veiled,
    A reminder of stories untold
    In the shadow of profundity where light had failed.

    Every rustling leaf, a tale revealed,
    Every branch, a journey uncharted,
    The arcane tree, in its ancient world,
    Held truths that time had overthrown.

    Beneath its canopy, ghostly wanderers paused
    To seek the wisdom of the past,
    In every knot and ancient flaw,
    A universe of supreme silence cast.

    The nights prolonged, and the moon
    Draped silver sparkles on its form,
    The arcane tree, a timeless rune,
    Guarded through each raging storm.

    Its presence lingered in the dark,
    A symbol of the endless quest,
    A silent guide, an ancient mark,
    In shadows deep where dreams found rest.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • An Enigma

    An Enigma

    An enigma hid in the mansion of forgotten dreams,
    Where shadows whispered silent screams,
    Shrouding the enigma, cloaked in night,
    A tale obscured from mortal sight.

    Mirrors and ghosts haunted the halls,
    Reflecting secrets through eerie walls,
    Glimmers of the past in moonlit haze,
    Lost in time’s labyrinthine maze.

    Candles flickered, wan and pale,
    Telling secrets of the frail,
    Of love that perished, dreams that bled,
    In rooms where silence masked the dead.

    Mirrors cracked by sorrow’s hand,
    Reflected a world so dark, so grand,
    Where whispered words and solemn cries blended with the wind’s mournful sighs,
    Lost relics of a time long banned.

    Portraits stared with hollow eyes,
    Guardians of forgotten lies,
    Their painted smiles hid the tears,
    Of long-lost souls and vanished years.

    Cobwebs draped the chandelier,
    Rustling with each breath of fear,
    As footsteps echoed on the floor,
    A haunting rhythm, evermore.

    The garden, wild with thorns and greed,
    A relic of time’s cruel speed,
    Where once bloomed roses, red and fair,
    Now stands a graveyard of despair.

    The clock tower, rusted, struck no chime,
    A sentinel to decaying time,
    Its hands froze in endless plight,
    Marking the hour of infinite night.

    In the library, dust-covered tomes,
    Spoke of lives and silent glooms,
    Of poets lost in melancholy,
    Their words were a dance of solemn folly.

    By the hearth, now cold and dead,
    Lay ashes of words that once were said,
    Their warmth, a memory, now faded,
    In silence, their essence was jaded.

    The ballroom, grand, now stood forlorn,
    Echoing with a silent horn,
    Where once the waltz of life granted delight,
    Now shadows danced in the muted light.

    An ancient portrait framed in gold,
    Of shadows, beautiful and bold,
    Their eyes, an enigma, deep and wide,
    Held secrets of the dark inside.

    Whispers floated through the air,
    Of love betrayed, of deep despair,
    A haunting tale of sorrow’s kiss,
    An enigma wrapped in the mist.

    The attic held a secret chest,
    With treasures lost and stories left in bequest,
    A diary of a broken heart,
    Torn apart, a tragic art.

    Beneath the mansion’s grand façade,
    A magic vault where shadows guarded,
    A legacy of pain and woe,
    Where tears and whispers dwindled low.

    The enigma, wrapped in sorrow’s veil,
    A ghostly ship in endless sail,
    Its secrets whispered through the gloom,
    In the mansion, an eternal garden of thorns that never ceased to bloom.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Enchanted Ruins

    The Enchanted Ruins

    The enchanted ruins were lost to time’s embrace,
    Where ivy clung to stone’s cold face,
    The echoes of a past forlorn,
    Resided within the ancient morn.

    The moonlight wove through the broken spire,
    Casting shadows that inspired,
    A mournful dance of spectres old,
    In ruins where their stories fold.

    The crumbling arches, silent wept,
    In sorrow’s breath, the night had slept,
    A whisper through the shattered hall,
    Of secrets lost and shadows tall.

    The ivy wrapped around the past,
    A painting of time steadfast,
    Its tendrils clutched at memories,
    Of joys dissolved in whispered pleas.

    Through labyrinths where echoes played,
    And remnants of the past decayed,
    The silence spoke of love and loss,
    And dreams once magnificent have turned to moss.

    The enchanted ruins were not anymore a majestic mansion,
    They lay beneath the moon’s soft code,
    Each stone was a witness to the years,
    A monument to vanished tears.

    Their splendour, now a fleeting glance,
    In the realm of twilight’s trance,
    Recounted tales of lives once bright,
    Now fading into an endless night.

    The ivy’s grip, a gentle thief,
    Enshrouded the past in quiet grief,
    Its leaves whispered of days gone by,
    Beneath the ever-weeping sky.

    In this desolate domain,
    A certain beauty did remain,
    For through the sorrow, light could trace,
    The haunting grace of time’s embrace was felt.

    Wandering shadows were silent remnants of forgotten tales,
    The moon’s dim light unveiled sorrow’s concealed details,
    In this forsaken place where time ceaselessly failed,
    Ghosts of the past lingered in haunted trails.

    These enchanted ruins held a timeless lore,
    Of what was cherished, lost, and more,
    A spectral dance beneath the moon,
    A memory’s melancholic tune.

    Amidst the echoes, faded sighs,
    The enchanted ruins whispered goodbyes,
    Of vanished joys, solemn grace,
    In the quiet of this haunted place.

    In moonlit silence, shadows entwined with forsaken longings,
    An ethereal realm where dreams once grieved,
    Through time’s embrace and the past refrained,
    A mournful song of bliss and anguish.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Forgotten Chamber

    The Forgotten Chamber

    The forgotten chamber was hiding in the dim recess of an ancient house,
    Where shadows clutched the silent walls,
    A chamber waited with a broken vow,
    Its secrets held in whispers’ thralls.

    Dusty curtains draped the sombre panes,
    Their fabric was frayed by time’s cruel hand,
    The floorboards creaked with ghostly strains,
    In this forsaken, spectral land.

    Beneath the moon’s cold, pallid light,
    The air grew thick with sorrow’s breath,
    Each crevice hid a tale of fright,
    Of restless souls and silent death.

    A mirror cracked, its glass dismayed,
    Reflects not what the eye could have seen,
    But echoes of a past long frayed,
    Where shadows lingered in misery.

    The decrepit pendulum clock stood still, unmoved,
    Its pendulum blade was a haunting lull,
    Tick-tock lost to time’s disprove,
    A rhythm ceased, a heartbeat dull.

    In corners where the darkness draped,
    A chilling breeze began to moan,
    The dust rose in spectral shapes,
    As if the room remembered its own doom.

    A hollow voice from beyond the seam,
    Called out with sorrowful, pleading grace,
    An old and weary, haunting dream,
    Etched in the chamber’s haunted space.

    And though the chamber’s door was sealed,
    Its secrets were still beyond human grasp,
    The echoes of its past were posed,
    In shadows that the night enwrapped.

    In the musty gloom, the cobwebs weaved,
    Their silken threads were ghostly shrouds,
    The echoes of the past deceived,
    As whispers appeared beneath clouds.

    The hearths, now cold, held faint traces,
    Of fires that once burned bright and warm,
    Its ashes held a spectral hue,
    Of days now lost to time’s own storm.

    The wallpaper, peeling with despair,
    Revealed forgotten patterns, old,
    A labyrinth of history’s snare,
    In faded shades of bold darkness.

    The bed’s old frame was creaking still,
    Its linens were yellowed by the years,
    A silent witness to the chill,
    Of sleepless nights and hidden fears.

    The oil paintings on the walls were torn,
    Their subjects were lost in vacant gazes,
    Eyes that followed, forlorn, worn,
    With souls enshrined in a darkened haze.

    The chandeliers, now dark and bare,
    Hung in silence in their spectral grace,
    Their crystals gathered moonlit glare,
    A fractured light in a broken space.

    The cold stone floors were etched with dust and sand,
    Where footsteps faded in muted cries,
    An eternal waltz of eerie time,
    In shadowed paths where darkness lay.

    The old armchair, once soft and grand,
    Were now draped in dust and faded dreams,
    Its cushions held a ghostly hand,
    A spectral touch in quiet schemes.

    The dust motes danced in the still air,
    A ghostly ballet in moonlight’s beam,
    Their silent steps were caught in a snare,
    Of time’s relentless, haunting stream.

    In the attic, secrets lay patiently in wait,
    In trunks and chests of weathered wood,
    Their locks were rusted by cruel fate,
    And treasures lost to darkened mood.

    The scent of old decay persisted,
    Of bygone days and vanished lights,
    A presence in the shadows twisted,
    An unseen guest that haunted the night.

    The floorboards creaked beneath the weight,
    Of memories that will never die,
    Each groaned a whisper of regret,
    A mournful sigh in the darkened sky.

    The broken windows framed the night,
    Their shattered glass was a ghostly screen,
    Through jagged panes, the pale moonlight,
    Revealed the shadows, cold and lean.

    The clock’s hands rested in frozen time,
    A symbol of the past’s cruel jest,
    Its silence spoke of sorrow’s rhyme,
    In the chamber’s timeless, spectral rest.

    In the corners, shadows blended and faded,
    With hints of faces, lost and still,
    They formed a dark and shifting parade,
    In the chamber’s eerie, silent thrill.

    The echoes of a distant song,
    Played softly in the empty halls,
    A melody that once belonged,
    To voices now in shadows’ thrall.

    The scent of old, forgotten flowers,
    Lingered faintly in the air,
    Their petals were lost to fleeting hours,
    And whispers caught in dark despair.

    The staircase winds in haunted grace,
    It steps a path to darkened lore,
    A trail of dust and spectral traces,
    Led to secrets held in yore.

    The walls, adorned with ancient ashes,
    Held stories etched in ghostly art,
    Their cracks revealed the scars of time,
    A memory and testimony to broken hearts.

    The old bookcase stood forlorn,
    Its shelves were now bare and filled with dust,
    Each time, a ghost of knowledge torn,
    From a past that faded to rust.

    The iron key upon the sill,
    Once turned to unlock hidden dreams,
    Now rested in silence, cold and still,
    Its purpose was lost to moonlit beams.

    The echoes of laughter’s tone,
    Were caught within the chamber’s keep,
    A long-gone joy, now overthrown,
    By shadows that, in silence, crept.

    The faded rug on the floor,
    Once vibrant with a grand pattern,
    Now threads of memory, old and sore,
    In the cold embrace of spectral hand.

    The portraits’ eyes, so haunting still,
    Watched over the room’s dismal space,
    Their gazes filled with ghostly chill,
    And secrets were hidden in their face.

    The doorframe creaked with every breeze,
    A sound that stirred the quiet gloom,
    Its hinges moaned in spectral pleas,
    A harbinger of shadowed doom.

    The forgotten chamber held a timeless grief,
    A sorrow cast in the spectral shade,
    Its silence spoke of disbelief,
    And memories that never faded.

    The midnight hour brought shadows deep,
    To weave their tales in moonlight’s veils,
    Darkness where the spirits wept,
    And echoes of the past prevailed.

    The room remained a silent cry,
    A place where time and sorrow met,
    Its broken heart, a ghostly sigh,
    A chamber lost to dark defeat.

    And though the chamber’s door was sealed,
    Its secrets were still beyond human grasp,
    The echoes of its past were posed,
    In shadows that the night enwrapped.

    For in this room of ancient plight,
    The past and present intertwined,
    A haunted realm of endless night,
    Where lost souls in silence pined.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Flowers Of Stone

    Flowers Of Stone

    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

  • An Apathetic Wonder

    An Apathetic Wonder

    An apathetic wonder at the sight of all the future catastrophes
    A meaningful fear traps me and pulls me into the abyss of obscurity
    Ghosts and spectres are my eager companions
    Being in many places in one day
    Travelling time quickly in a preternatural form
    A glare of light and fire pretended to scare me
    Everything was a dream of a vision
    And suddenly, the present night appears
    No more complaints when the world would outcast

    An apathetic wonder like a golden morning candle
    For another cold scent of winter
    When the rain does not stop pouring on the streets
    In the heat
    And my blood is frozen like the winter snow
    The beautiful colours of stars become flowers
    All of a sudden
    A mystery which never existed has been the truth on earth
    Trying to forget distasteful memories

    An apathetic wonder of the sky
    Every time a desire becomes complex
    Every moment of happiness and sorrow
    It cannot happen again
    An opportunity for the mind
    Incurable wounds of the soul
    Nothing but excellent astonishments
    The water is everywhere, coming from the blue
    Creating a vast ocean of tears and sighs

    An apathetic wonder
    Being busy living within my soul
    Those ancient memories
    From every place of my mind
    Passing along with my own dreams
    The sky is pure and dark
    A lovely gloomy air
    Where I cannot perceive any colour or sound
    During an infinite journey in my subconscious

    An apathetic wonder in a light storm
    Winged like nothing else
    My words fly away
    Toward a remote invisible place
    Where every kind of bliss and pain was dwelling
    Once the sun was gone
    As a gilded sign of merriment
    And red roses were made of silver and gold
    My heart could not beat anymore in delight
    Because my dreams were open doors.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • A Solemn Silence

    A Solemn Silence

    A solemn silence in a terrific isolation
    An ocean of ice and fire
    An assembly of anguish and vanity
    Sadness and despondency
    Stars and clouds swirl at every blast of the winds
    Being encompassed in darkness
    A tumultuous remembrance leaves me
    listless and silent
    Now in the night
    And still
    I’ve lived a distant life
    Far from me
    When I was alone
    Where no one is so free
    Which might have changed
    Many times
    Years
    Too suddenly as well as never

    A solemn silence in the loneliness
    Where all around, my thoughts are bound
    Even if there is a sound
    Silent souls sink into a dim and sweet lake
    The sea waves advance like ancient mountains
    Calm and still lingering in the snow
    Many earthly ghouls float in the aether
    My potion of delirium and defeat
    In an incessant struggle with logic and treacherousness
    What could I be able to leave forever
    Wandering in the infinite dispersion of my emotions
    Getting lost and pretending to find myself
    One of the several versions

    A solemn silence in the loneliness
    Travelling and losing the path
    In a labyrinth of shattered mirrors and illusions
    Once the discovery is sparkling with dark hues
    I encounter the truth and dismay
    In the loss of beliefs and resolutions
    On a dark and still night
    When the only noise comes from the wind flying through the leaves
    At the dawn of a longly forgotten place
    The clouds seem suddenly collide and burn
    Through the depths of my heart
    A solitary sky had bled away
    In a thousand years of dread
    Amidst the frozen lights

    A solemn silence of the night
    It is like winter after dusk
    The past had gone far away
    All the seasons will blossom and die
    Before the sun hath gone
    At the end of time
    A dream of spiritual passions
    The secret of vanity
    The mystery of a dream
    Once lost forever
    In the immensity of the void
    When a distant wind blasts
    A new spring of every thought begins
    And a realm of starry glimmers
    Lighting the sunset sky
    Beneath the mountains’ stillness.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

© Esther Racah 2025. All rights reserved.