Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: arcane

  • The Magic Beneath Her Smile

    The Magic Beneath Her Smile

    The magic beneath her smile
    In a hush of varnished sight
    Her gaze held mine
    She was not senseless
    She was enigmatic
    A timeless masterpiece
    An eternal and sublime beauty
    As if she knew everything about me
    And all that I hadn’t yet dared to live

    Seventeen-seventeen was the arcane message
    She whispered to me in the gallery aura
    Like a cypher and a vow
    A painting is much more than a mirror
    It is the reflection of a soul into a thin surface of eternity

    The time became nineteen-nineteen
    Like wings folding back into the surface of my body
    An unlived existence was rising up from between my heart
    And it was not a fairytale or a legend
    But a secret signal and a door to another world

    Surreal fantasies became my realm
    And there I lingered silent and astonished
    Immobile like a sphinx with staring eyes
    Futile as I felt like the moments of bliss I lived in that magic kingdom of beauty and eternity
    An exquisite world where my heart beat again joyfully

    Vanity and ephemeral dreams took me to mysterious places
    Where I discovered new oddities and ancient secrets
    I wouldn’t be able to understand which spell had been cast on me
    I only knew I couldn’t resist the captivating labyrinth of arts

    The magic beneath her smile concealed arcane mysteries
    It wasn’t a prosaic artwork but a divine splendour
    Dressed in centuries of varnish
    Hid behind a shining crystal
    Surrounded by fragments of timeless magnificence.
    Lisa

  • Crimson Tears

    Crimson Tears

    Crimson tears came from my deep distress
    As I was wandering infinitely until the edges of time
    Despair became my safe dwelling
    And solitude was just a necessity
    For I was unloved and lonely

    In dungeons of grief and sorrow, I found myself
    Depriving myself of solace was my favourite forte
    I soaked in depression until I drowned deep in the abyss of self-destruction
    I chose to live in chaos because I had lost my sanity
    Madness had become my guide and my wisdom

    I nullified my expectations and I indulged in destructive memories
    I drank from the toxic goblet of oblivion
    With the specific purpose to erase my heart
    Was that feasible?
    I knew not

    Unlearning all my knowledge and forgetting who I was
    I had become nothingness
    I had become a shadow of the underworld
    My soul had dissolved in the infinite void
    I could only feel the darkness take possess of my body

    Crimson tears hushed into rivers of blood
    While the incessant storm of the night locked me up
    In the total gloominess and in the most deafening silence
    I had found consolation in obliteration
    A funeral fanfare came to be my hymn of love and my final requiem

    I embraced death, and I faded away
    I was finally the queen of the realm of arcane shadows
    A kingdom where I ruled over the dead and wraiths
    Surrounded by hollow trees and sharp daggers
    And dressed with spider webs and fragments of vestiges

    I wandered through a mist filled with decay and ashes
    Where nothing changed not even the slow crawl of time
    No praises were to be found but only the pang of endings
    I lay beneath the deformed tree branches
    Among roots slick with damp and grave moss
    And the night closed over me like a tombstone.
    Elisabetta

  • Delusional Expectations

    Delusional Expectations

    Delusional expectations in the midst of the night,
    When the most profound silence enveloped every corner of the realm of reality,
    The solitude ruled the entire realm of arcane and magical dreams.

    Darkness and light were both present in a frolic of magic spells,
    Flowers and trees grew taller every night, relying on desires and deceptions,
    Along the banks of rivers of oblivion.

    Remembrances fell down on cold soil like dead leaves,
    Making the noise of tombstones on forgotten graves,
    Echoes of souls lost in the void,
    Calling from beyond, where time no longer reigned.

    Shadows stretched their domain for every whisper of the wind,
    Dancing beneath a pale, evanescent moon,
    As the night creatures began to sing their silent melody.
    Fate lingered over every sigh and lament,
    As the boundary between dream and death blurred into obliviousness.

    Ephemeral phantoms wandered beneath twisted trees,
    Their hollow gazes fixed upon the distant stars,
    Which no longer offered promises of mirth or hope,
    In fact, they provided only a reflection of their despair.

    The scent of decay drifted through the air,
    A reminder of the countless stories left untold,
    Forgotten by the living and the dead.
    Yet, within this realm, they lingered,
    Bound by the remnants of a magic long since faded.

    In the centre of this spectral realm,
    A lone figure stood amidst the expanding dark,
    Cloaked in glooms, their sights filled with silent yearning.
    They scrutinised the cycle of night’s dominion,
    With no solace in the rising of the dawn.

    The river’s slow current carried away forgotten remembrances,
    Washing them clean of all the pain and sorrow,
    Only to return them once again,
    Draped in the midst of eternity’s frigid embrace.

    Delusional expectations blossomed in this endless twilight, like dreams of deliverance,
    They were no more than other illusions,
    Further delusions wrapped in the silence of the night.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Alchemy Of Darkness

    The Alchemy Of Darkness

    The alchemy of darkness cast its spell
    In ancient castles where shadows dwelled.
    A tale of dark enchantments swelled,
    Through the alchemy of night’s embrace,
    Secrets whimpered, lost in time.

    Once the spark of light in darkness kindled,
    With mystic words and arcane thoughts,
    In cauldrons deep where gloom was brewed,
    Dreams transformed, and darkness grew.

    In cryptic tomes of ages past,
    Lay the spells of shadows cast.
    The alchemy of night’s domain
    Turned light to dark’s refrain.

    Phantoms rose in midnight’s veil,
    Reflecting a whispered tale.
    In the stillness, darkness flourished,
    Where once, the light of day had strived.

    In moonlit chambers, shadows toiled,
    With potions dark and secrets spoiled.
    In every flask, a cloud stirred,
    Turning light into arcane spells.

    The night’s elixir, dark and deep,
    Held secrets that the shadows kept.
    In every drop, a story told
    Of light transformed, of dreams grown cold.

    Under watchful eyes, light faded into night.
    Darkness became an artwork of dismay,
    Transforming light into a twisted luminary.
    Shadiness revealed mysteries, igniting silent frights.

    Gloominess remained the keeper of antique spells and arcane wisdom,
    In a storm of the night, echoes of dread began their silent flight.
    Through alchemy, light had faded,
    Into the dark, its debt repaid.

    In twilight’s grasp, the darkness unfolded,
    A silent world of eerie hue.
    Through alchemy, the night held sway,
    Turning light to shadow’s play.

    The ancient craft, in darkness, bound,
    With every spell, the night was profound.
    In shadows deep, where secrets lay,
    The alchemy of darkness thrived.

    So, in the night when silence screamed,
    Lay the alchemy of haunted dreams.
    In the darkness, truth abided,
    Where light and shadow intertwined and collided.

    The mystic arts had wrought their end,
    In twilight’s realm, where shadows blended.
    The work was never done,
    In the dark where night and light had spun.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Magic Library

    The Magic Library

    The magic library stood in the midst of the forest,
    Where shadows converged and time seemed to merge.
    Books whispered secrets in the dim candlelight,
    Pages turned by themselves in the depth of the night.

    The shelves groaned with volumes bound in dark leather,
    Their titles were elusive, shifting like the weather.
    Silent phantoms glided silently by,
    Their hollow eyes gleamed, no longer alive.

    Each book was a portal to realms far and wide,
    To curses and blessings that destinies guided.
    A tome with gold letters “Fates Intertwined,”
    Its tale was too unsettling for the timid souls.

    A dusty old grimoire with a clasp rusted shut,
    Unlocked with a whisper, a soft, secret cut.
    It spoke of enchantments, of magic once pure,
    Twisted by darkness and shadows that lured.

    A wanderer ventured into this spectral lair,
    Drawn by the stories that whispered of despair.
    A book of forgotten lore was opened,
    And vanished at once, the mystery deepened.

    The magic library under the moonlight,
    A realm of dark and magic tales took flight.
    Wandering aisles, where shadows convened,
    Whispers of secrets in every scene.

    The allure of this magical place,
    Where stories entangled and time had no trace.
    The magic library was wondrous and dreadful,
    It was a portal to lands that spirits found delightful.

    Within its vast halls, secrets long lay,
    Hidden in tomes with covers of decay.
    A volume of prophecies, bound in red,
    Spoke of a future where all hopes were dead.

    Some shadow once dared to decipher its stones,
    Seeking the knowledge that within it shone.
    But the words twisted, morphed, and blurred,
    Until sanity was no longer assured.

    Those who strolled into the magic library went lost and confused,
    By the magic and curses, the volumes were infused.
    Its whispers joined a spectral refrain,
    A cautionary tale of knowledge and pain.

    The magic library with its obscure corners, where shadows loomed thick,
    And ghosts lingered, bound by fate’s cruel trick.
    They sought wisdom, power, and truth,
    But found only madness trapped in their booth.

    The candles flickered, casting an eerie glow,
    On the grimace of those who no longer could show,
    Whether they lived or simply existed,
    In the magic library’s grasp, where time persisted.

    Brave adventurers with hearts full of fire,
    Accessed the spellbinding vault, led by desire.
    They sought out a legend, a tale of gold,
    Of riches and treasures, of secrets untold.

    They opened a chest with arcane symbols,
    Unleashed a force, they could not refrain.
    The shadows engulfed them, wrapped them tight,
    Leaving behind sighs in the pale moonlight.

    The forest grew still, the library suspended,
    Content with the stories of those who had strived.
    For in its dark heart, it harboured a truth:
    Knowledge is power, but often aloof.

    The magic library of days long past,
    Where ghouls were forever cast.
    For the magic it held was both wondrous and dire,
    A balance of wisdom and consuming fire.
    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

  • The Arcane Portal

    The Arcane Portal

    The arcane portal lay in the heart of a desolate and forsaken wood,
    Where ancient trees with gnarled whispers stood,
    There emerged a portal veiled in deep shadows,
    A gateway in the nightly and sorrowful meadows.

    Beneath the moon’s pale, ghostly light,
    The portal pulsed with a spectral might,
    Its frame of obsidian, cold and grim,
    Echoed with chants of a forgotten hymn.

    Creeping fog enshrouded the ground,
    Muffling all the hollow, eerie sound,
    Of whispers from souls long lost in time,
    Who crossed the threshold and committed their crime.

    The air was thick with despair’s embrace,
    No joy or hope could find its place,
    Only the weight of an eternal night,
    And the haunting visions of endless fright.

    From the portal’s depths, a chill wind blew,
    Carrying whispers that no one knew,
    Of secrets buried in the ancient soil,
    Tales of woe, of endless toil.

    Spectres roamed in silent grief,
    Bound to the arcane portal, with no relief,
    Their eyes hollow, their forms so thin,
    Trapped between worlds, they could not grin.

    The trees around, their branches bare,
    Seemed to weep in the cold, still air,
    As shadows danced in a mournful waltz,
    To the portal’s call, a siren’s quartz.

    A lone wanderer, drawn by fate’s cruel hand,
    Stood at the threshold of this cursed land,
    A step away from the endless abyss,
    Where darkness reigned with a twisted bliss.

    Fear-rooted dreams, their heart a snare,
    Caught in the portal’s wicked glare,
    And there they stood, forever bound,
    Trust was lost in the portal’s playground.

    In the silence of the cursed wood,
    Only echoes of lost souls eternally misunderstood,
    The ghosts’ signs, a final plea,
    Lost to the arcane portal’s dark decree.

    No dawn would break this eternal night,
    No hope, no glimpse of heaven’s light,
    Just endless despair, a fate unkind,
    Within the portal blew a perpetual wind,
    A hollow echo, no solace to find.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

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