Tag: arcane mysteries

  • The Castle Of Ghosts

    The Castle Of Ghosts

    The castle of ghosts was the fortress of my fears and anguish.
    The castle of ghosts also held my deepest terrors within its walls.
    It rose majestic and formidable on winter nights of solitude and storm,
    yet stood equally clear on silent, warm summer evenings.
    There was no season in which I could not glimpse it on the horizon—
    Each time I surrendered to my dreams
    and let my subconscious strike my heart,
    unlocking a secret chest filled with arcane mysteries
    and precious jewels.

    The voices I heard were those of malevolent spectres,
    intent on robbing me of my joy and my imagination.
    They sought to annihilate and utterly destroy
    all my dreams and visions—deemed by them mere madness—
    when in truth they were the very essence of my being,
    The essence of my heart, secretly nourishing my fantasies,
    those fantasies brimming with hope and desire,
    With stars and dawns yet to come.

    I could no longer entrust my secrets to any human soul,
    After all the harm had poured upon me like icy rain
    On a tempestuous night,
    while countless daggers and arrows pierced my heart and body—
    as if I were born and destined
    to a life woven with anguish, grief, powerlessness, and wretchedness.

    My heart was entangled in brambles,
    whose sharp thorns made it bleed perpetually,
    draining all the vital, creative energy I harboured within—
    leaving me a bloodless creature,
    devoid of impulses to guide me forward
    Along my dark and uncertain path,
    where every step was like a fragile, slender thread,
    ready to snap under its own frailty.

    Survived invisible storms,
    silent battles no one ever saw,
    I carried within me an armour of ash,
    hardened by time
    between fleeting shadows and light.

    The castle of ghosts was, in truth, the castle of my surviving selves—
    versions forged through countless traumas, abuses,
    and dreadful events that cast down my soul, my heart, and my body,
    to the point where I died many times over,
    only to be reborn as a new person each time.

    And now I had grown accustomed to losing all that I possessed
    only to gain something else—
    Something that would grant me another identity,
    another name,
    and another heart.
    Elisabetta

  • A Heart Of Stone

    A Heart Of Stone

    A heart of stone and blood was mine in the afterlife
    In my underworld abode full of evanescent masks and weeping phantoms
    A magic tower of spells touching the sky and the metallic moons
    Surrounded by soft clouds and dead trees

    Each mask whispered terrible secrets to me
    While smiling like court jesters inside the unbreakable walls of my castle
    A castle made of bones and blood of my enemies
    Beneath the shining firmament visited by the moons with many countenances

    I was the queen of the tragic world of pity and descend
    My decadence made a throne for me, carved in sorrow
    And there I lingered, dressed in shining sparkles and moonlight
    My gown was forged with threads of sighs and desires

    My gown was the manifestation of sighs and desires
    Eerie candles with their trembling flames cast light upon my visions
    Longings coiled like serpents made of smoke
    The walls wept decayed memories and each mirror was a doorway to arcane mysteries

    My absolute silence was a hymn to all I had lost
    The moons grieved the weight of my dismay
    An eternal ghost similar to myself waited for me beyond my crystal windows
    Ruins and beauty crowned me their sovereign

    My destiny was engraved in shadow and starlight
    I wandered in the labyrinth of forsaken fortunes
    I felt that the ancient soil trembled beneath my steps
    My heart was still carved from stone, seeking solace in vain

    I couldn’t break free from the chains of my own sorrow
    Although I reached for my reflection in the mirror
    And I knew that this was the fate I had chosen
    I knew I belonged to the occult underworld as an ethereal creature of darkness.
    Elisabetta

  • Stalking Nightmares

    Stalking Nightmares

    Stalking nightmares wandered through the garden of wonders,
    Descending like a toxic fog over the meadows and flowers,
    They whispered sweet deceptions to those who dared to wander in dreams.

    Dark illusions were blossoming in the eternal night,
    Under a firmament devoid of luminaries and flames,
    The only enjoyment and delight was the horrid stare of fearless ghouls.

    The love for obsession became a tapestry of thorns,
    Feeding their roots with the blood of incautious dreamers and believers,
    As a game of subjugation of cruel torments with shining grins.

    Stalking nightmares deprived of life and future,
    As demonic vampires devoid of any righteous scruples and empathy,
    Striving to annihilate and destroy every blameless flower.

    Fading stars were just a jest and amusement,
    For those who were not aware of their sparkling lights,
    Ghosts who danced in shadows, lost in their plight.

    Every naivety lured by haunting whispers of dreams turned to ash,
    Each petal was a dagger, sharp with hidden secrets,
    Under the spell of a wicked gloominess, avid of dreams.

    Stalking nightmares, stubborn blooms breaking through the frigid soil,
    With roots entwined in enigmas of unrevealed arcane,
    In a conflict between shadows and flickers of dawn.

    In the abyss of dread, dark winds did howl,
    Swaying brittle stalks of nightmares, thin and foul,
    Beneath the moonless sky, there were plenty of threatening clouds.

    Tangled vines of dismay, tangled in despair,
    Stifling the seeds of hope and joy,
    While a storm of shadows thickened the languid air.

    Stalking nightmares revelled in their reign,
    Like ghouls with bared teeth and eyes of fire,
    Oblivious to the change beneath their feet.

    Their shadows were triumphant, blind to the garden’s cries,
    In the realm of forgotten souls crumbling into dust.
    In this twilight domain, where agonies convened,
    The garden pleaded in vain to turn nightmares into beauty.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

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