Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: broken dreams

  • The Abyss Of Nothingness

    The Abyss Of Nothingness

    The abyss of nothingness swallowed all my fractured desires
    The fear that gripped my heart and that sense of calm, of stability that took hold of my life made me a helpless and insignificant creature, invisible to mortals, yet at the same time the target of their cruelties.

    How much I wished to be different, to be accepted, and to be treated with great respect for who I truly was. But in truth, my entire life was a series of piercing endurance of inhuman suffering, humiliations, cruelties against me, deceit, mockery, traps, attempts to undermine my being, violence, and all the most barbaric and terrifying acts against my soul and myself.

    My life had not been a normal existence—one that no one could have understood. My experience was not a common one. I had lived through a time when my dream had encapsulated me in an ideal, evanescent, and ethereal reality. No one could see me, especially during that period of apparent death. Yes, because for ten long years I had not lived—I had fallen into a deep and fatal dream, isolated from everything and everyone. I had built my own kingdom of dreams and illusions, into which, day by day, I entrusted my very self.

    All the hourglasses in my dwelling had come to a halt, and the flow of time had lost all meaning. The disconnection from the truth that surrounded me had become both a tendency and a habit—one that turned into law. Indeed, I had become like a crystal frozen in time, like a statue untouched by its passing. I carried within me that immaterial sense of my heart, trapped in a confining aura.

    I no longer cared what society thought, nor what people might perceive of me. And so it remains. For my rarity and my strangeness are imperceptible to any human heart. I was accused of things that never were, of things my heart could not even fathom. Everything had vanished like soap bubbles. Nothing remained—only bitter memories or sorrowful ones that dragged me down into the depths of an untouchable abyss.

    Delicate and fragile as I was, I had lost the ability to love, to admire, and to obey mortals. I no longer saw them as similar to me, but rather, I perceived other beings—creatures who had no voice in the human condition—as kindred, as dear to me. And so it was that the abyss of nothingness possessed me, and it will always possess a part of my soul. For I belong to the emptiness and to the darkness.
    Elisabetta

  • The Memories Of The Past

    The Memories Of The Past

    The memories of the past drag me into their swirling realm of despair.
    Alone, I find myself in a desolate place, a pit of the living dead—buried memories in the graveyard of my past. All I see are rows of lifeless trees.

    I pretend it is autumn, or perhaps winter, yet in truth this entire landscape is but a reflection of my dead and decaying soul.
    The darkness of the night does not frighten me—on the contrary, it is part of me. I am no longer who I once was; I have become a spirit of the night.

    The emptiness within me is filled with fears and regrets, and with all that I have lost unconditionally and irreversibly—things I shall never have again. And thus, the wreck of my existence: not only is it wretched, but also laden with pain.

    My cries of pain and my screams of despair are worth nothing. I have never been worth anything—only to wither my soul, already inscribed with daggers of disappointment and betrayals, inflicted by monstrous and mortally deplorable beings.

    All my crumpled desires and shattered dreams lie underground among the remnants of my memories and regrets. Left without emotions and left without words, I surrender to my nightmares, to my anguished obsessions that permeate my heart and tear it into a thousand pieces.

    My tormentors advance relentlessly, ready to tear me apart and destroy me in oblivion and forgetfulness. How much longer I must suffer, I do not know. I only know that cruel fate has entrusted me to the ship of the wretched and lost souls.

    The memories of my past haunt me insolently and give me no peace, and so I shall spend the eternity of my non-existence as a restless spirit.
    Elisabetta

  • A Doomed Life

    A Doomed Life

    A doomed life, it once began,
    Beneath the sun and stars, life’s fleeting span.
    The days were bright, the nights serene,
    But shadows stirred, unseen, obscene.

    In the stillness of a forsaken night,
    These halls were walked where shadows bite.
    The walls, once lavish, now crumbled to dust,
    Held secrets of lives turned to rust.

    An ancient decayed portrait stares with dread,
    Watching over the chambers where dreams had fled.
    Fragments of euphoria, long decayed,
    Whispered of joy that darkness betrayed.

    Once there was light in this cursed abode,
    But fate, unkind, took its heavy load.
    The gardens bloomed with divine colours,
    Now twisted and tangled in death’s cold design.

    In those flowers, a tale was sown,
    Of hope abandoned, of seeds overthrown.
    Every petal fell like a broken dream,
    Drowning in life’s wicked schemes.

    A doomed life, it was said,
    From the lips of the living and the dead.
    The winds that howled through empty chambers,
    Carrying the weight of ancient tombs.

    The days of youthful grace are recalled,
    When love lit up each weathered face.
    But soon, the fates, with cruel disdain,
    Bound every heart in chains of pain.

    The storm rolled in with thunderous might,
    Crushing hope beneath the night.
    The fires of joy were smothered fast,
    Leaving only ash, memories cast.

    Nonetheless, these haunted walls were roamed by shadows,
    Listening to the silence as it calls.
    Every corner speaks of despair,
    A doomed life trapped within its snare.

    The halls, once bright with life’s fair bloom,
    Became the dwelling of endless gloom.
    Every gust, a fleeting sigh,
    In this place where all must die.

    And so the wandering goes on, lost and alone,
    A phantom in a house of stone.
    No escape from sorrow’s knife,
    Bound forever to a doomed life.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Cage of Unending Nightmares

    The Cage of Unending Nightmares

    The cage of unending nightmares,
    Enclosed within a prison of steel,
    A soul once bright faced a dark ordeal.
    Nightmares surged from every seam,
    Shattering the remnants of a dream.

    Bars of dread, shadows’ clasp,
    Held fast within the cage’s grasp.
    Each night, a canvas of frightful scenes,
    Painted with horrors and broken dreams.

    Faces twisted in agony,
    Haunted the cage with chilling glee.
    The air was thick with a mournful moan,
    A prison where the mind stood alone.

    Screams echoed through the hollow night,
    As phantoms danced in the pale moonlight.
    Each breath a shudder, steeped in fear,
    Each heartbeat echoed despair near.

    The cage’s walls, once firm and strong,
    Felt the weight of the suffering throng.
    Restlessness took hold, creeping in,
    As nightmares spun their haunting spin.

    The nights grew longer, shadows tall,
    Each one an echo of a desperate call.
    In the darkness, sanity frayed,
    As the soul’s hope began to fade.

    Each fleeting dream dissolved into black,
    In the cage’s grip, there was no going back.
    Freedom was but a distant scream,
    Lost in the heart of a shattered dream.

    Through endless nights of searing pain,
    The soul endured but felt the strain.
    The cage of nightmares, a ceaseless snare,
    Held captive in its cruel lair.

    In the silence that followed, a sombre truth,
    A reminder of lost youth.
    The cage’s shadows left their mark,
    A testament to dreams gone dark.

    The iron bars, a grim embrace,
    Marked the soul’s forsaken space.
    In the stillness, memories weep,
    Their echoes haunt the cage’s keep.

    Within the silence, dread lingers still,
    A ghostly reminder of fate’s cruel will.
    The cage’s shadows left their scar,
    A cruel remnant of dreams afar.

    In the aftermath, a solemn truth,
    A reminder of lost youth.
    The cage’s shadows left their mark,
    A testament to dreams gone dark.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Maelstrom of Lost Hopes

    The Maelstrom of Lost Hopes

    The maelstrom of lost hopes,
    A storm raged through the silent night,
    Swirling hopes into the maelstrom’s bite.
    Dreams, once vivid, were cast away,
    In a tempest that led hearts astray.

    The winds of change, harsh and cold,
    Tore apart what dreams once told.
    A vortex of despair spun tight,
    Drowning aspirations in the dead of night.

    Visions of a brighter dawn,
    Lost in the tempest, all but gone.
    Each gust, a reminder of the fall,
    Of hopes that shattered against the wall.

    In the heart of the storm, shadows danced,
    As every wish and dream was entranced.
    The maelstrom’s roar drowned out the cries,
    Of souls adrift beneath darkened skies.

    Fragments of hope scattered wide,
    Carried away by the storm’s fierce tide.
    Each hope a wisp, a fleeting flare,
    Lost in the tempest’s cruel snare.

    The storm’s fury showed no mercy,
    As dreams dissolved into a dark sea.
    The chaos spun with relentless might,
    Churning despair through the endless night.

    A calm eventually settled in,
    Leaving echoes of where hopes had been.
    The maelstrom’s legacy, a haunting sound,
    A reminder of the dreams that drowned.

    In the aftermath, a sombre view,
    Of aspirations lost and futures askew.
    The maelstrom’s wrath, a cruel jest,
    Left the heart with only the quest.

    In the wake of the tempest’s rage,
    Silent whispers filled the empty stage.
    Echoes of hope once bright and clear,
    Now faded to a distant, mournful cheer.

    The remnants of dreams, like ashes, fall,
    Drifting down from the storm’s cruel thrall.
    Yet within the ruins, a fragile light,
    Glimmers softly through the endless night.

    In the silence that follows the storm’s roar,
    A faint heartbeat, a whisper of yore.
    Though the maelstrom left its deep scar,
    The spirit seeks where lost hopes are.

    From the wreckage, a new dawn may rise,
    As dreams take flight to brighter skies.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Vanishing Mysteries

    Vanishing Mysteries

    Vanished mysteries faded in the twilight’s embrace,
    Where secrets lingered and shadows interlaced.
    Legends of dreams veiled in sullen clouds,
    Lost in the aether, where they drifted out.

    In the stillness of the night, where silence reigned,
    Whispers dissolved into quiet vestiges.
    Once vivid scenes were now ghostly thin,
    Slipped away as darkness drew in.

    By the moon’s cold glare, where shadows ruled over their realm,
    Mysteries swayed in their final clasp.
    Glimmers of truth, now just out of reach,
    Hid in the night’s darkened breach.

    Forsaken alleys and hidden doors,
    Enigmas lost on unseen shores.
    Bygone mysteries left behind,
    At the mercy of wandering winds.

    Pale sighs in the cool night air,
    Told of truths no longer there.
    Phantom stories once held dear,
    Faded away as dawn drew near.

    In archaic forests, where night prevailed,
    Paradoxes lurking along hidden paths.
    Moonlight cast its silver sheen,
    On vanished tales and broken dreams.

    Old ruins, riddles long past,
    Secrets kept but never to last.
    Mysteries cast in shadow’s hold,
    In the halls where dreams grew cold.

    In the fog where silence assembled,
    Lay the end of vanished lanes.
    Mysteries lingered, then were gone,
    In the fleeting touch of dawn.

    Through ancient woods and misty moors,
    Mysteries slipped through unseen doors.
    Were lost to sight into the night’s embrace,
    Leaving whispers in their trace.

    In the tranquillity where shadows danced,
    Ancient sighs drifted away.
    Each nook held a tale so frail,
    Of vanished dreams and secrets pale.

    In the night where secrets come to an end,
    Rested the mysteries, now at peace.
    Disappeared in twilight’s seam,
    Lost forever in a dream.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Annihilated Dreams

    The Annihilated Dreams

    The annihilated dreams dwelled in the realm of betrayal and deception,
    Where hope and sorrow had intertwined and bided,
    The night was thick with spectral dread,
    A night sky where the lost were spread.

    The dreams, once vibrant, now lay broken,
    In the silence, their voices were unspoken,
    Their fragments scattered on the frigid soil,
    Vestiges of what had been before.

    The clock ticked on with a mournful sound,
    In this realm where despair was bound,
    The instants moved slowly, the hours dragged,
    Each minute draped in a ghostly shroud ragged.

    The walls, adorned with faded scenes,
    Of fractured hopes and broken dreams,
    Bore witness to the endless plight,
    Of souls who had lost their way in the night.

    The bed, once soft, now cold and bare,
    Was where the restless spirits stared,
    Their eyes wide open lost in fright,
    As they wandered through the endless night.

    The mirror’s shards reflected the pain,
    A thousand tears, a thousand stains,
    Each piece a glimpse of sorrow’s grip,
    A tale of dreams that could not slip.

    The night descended with a mantle of grey,
    The ghosts of dreams refused to sway,
    They lingered in the darkened room,
    A remembrance of sorrow’s gloom.

    In this realm of endless night,
    Where annihilated dreams had lost their fight,
    The echoes of despair were clear,
    In the silence, they drew near.

    In this forsaken land of deep shadows,
    Where endless nights denied sleep,
    The whispers of the fallen dreams,
    Intertwined with silent screams.

    In the corners, darkness loomed,
    Echoes of despair, they bloomed,
    Phantom voices softly sighed,
    In the silence, sorrow bided.

    The moon, a silent witness there,
    Cast its glow on souls laid bare,
    The weight of grief, a heavy shroud,
    Covered all, both low and proud.

    In this bleak and haunted space,
    Dreams and hope had lost their grace.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Cursed Lighthouse

    The Cursed Lighthouse

    The cursed lighthouse stood up upon a cliff that stabbed the sky,
    The lighthouse stood in the wind and rain,
    Its beacon lost, its light gone dry,
    A relic cursed with endless pain.

    The waves below crashed cold and fierce,
    Their voices shrieking through the storm,
    The keeper’s cry, no soul to pierce,
    Echoes in the sea’s forlorn form.

    Its lantern room, now dark and bare,
    Once held the light to guide the lost,
    But now it waited in black despair,
    A beacon to the tempest’s cost.

    The keeper’s ghost still roamed the stairs,
    His footsteps echoed in the gale,
    A sorrowed man who knew the tales,
    Of mariners lost in the night’s labyrinth.

    The wind howled through the broken glasses,
    Its fury was tempered by regret,
    A haunting wail, a memory’s pass,
    Of lives lost to the sea’s dark bet.

    The foghorn’s moan, a mournful call,
    Rang out across the bitter sea,
    Yet no one heard its sorrowed fall,
    For all were lost to eternity.

    The cursed lighthouse stood, a spectral guard,
    It lights a memory of old,
    A curse upon its stones was marred,
    A tale of sorrow, dark and cold.

    And so it waited upon the cliff,
    To tell its tale through the tempest’s roar,
    A monument to those adrift,
    And the keeper’s soul always.

    The rain poured down in ghostly sheets,
    Its rhythm was lost in the ocean’s cry,
    The lighthouse wept as darkness met,
    The roiling waves that never died.

    Each lightning flash revealed the past,
    Of shipwrecked souls and broken dreams,
    Their voices lingered, shadows cast,
    In the storm’s relentless screams.

    The beacon’s light, once fierce and bright,
    Now, it faded into the tempest’s dread,
    A spectral glow in endless night,
    Where hope and light have been since dead.

    The keeper’s vigil never ended,
    His curse bound him to the storm,
    In waves and winds, his spirit wended,
    A haunting shape, forever mourned.

    Through mist and night, the story’s told,
    Of sorrow deep and spirits old.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Dark Nightmares

    Dark Nightmares

    Dark nightmares of morning glow
    They were rising like a gentle breeze
    Like heavy clouds begun to wander
    Across the infinite horizon of my sight
    The pleasant summer nights faded from my memories
    Till the moon came gently down and my eyes gazed a far candle
    In a dark chamber of grey stones
    Remembering the sunny weather of the past years
    I never ceased to build my castle
    Writing down broken notes

    Dark nightmares
    As all the visions from a distant past are gone
    And now my nightmares are glued with pains
    When memories become dark, the whole world disappears
    Cold dreams are like the frosty winter wind
    In time I must flee, and my voice becomes true
    As long as I’m alive and anguish pricks my heart
    I live in a dim silence
    A lotus grazes my imagination
    Still lost within myself

    Dark nightmares of my senses’ slumber
    The long loneliness of my heart
    Moments lost in the world
    Like shadows of a dream
    Not a breath in my own mind
    Thoughts belonging to the labyrinth of my soul
    Far in the mist
    Lying deep inside of myself
    My wishes do bother me
    Every time I glimpse the pain in my heart

    Dark nightmares drag me to the infinite abyss of despair
    So dismal and cold is my soul that it became dead
    I’ve grown so restless in sorrow
    While nothing in my life occurs but silent dreams
    The sky is only a cold essence
    And I am forever lonely
    I walked through the darkness with a blue wind hitting me
    Like tiny daggers slashing my skin
    When a hasty storm broke the clouds into dust
    Hushed by a mournful silence, I embraced my everlasting grief.

    Dark nightmares and illusions
    They came and shed darkness
    While each memory bent my emotions
    A swarthy shudder whispered unrevealed secrets
    A sea of fire emerged at the sound of my tears
    Madness and dismay became my consolation and comfort
    Fleeing from an insane lodging
    In a fleeting moment where fragments of my soul were scattered in the cold gusts of indifference
    Buying busy weeping my broken dreams
    When the shadows of the clouds cast a spell on me.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • A Comfortless Dreary Sky

    A Comfortless Dreary Sky

    A comfortless dreary sky
    A terrific and beautiful tempest
    Made of anguishes and broken dreams
    Once they belonged to the realm of quests and stupor
    But interrupted in the very moment of truth and beauty
    To become fragments of a whole nightmare
    In the abyss of ineptitude and betrayal
    I might question the night about my future
    It may come in fanfare sounds and sparkling obscurity
    Obscenity and banality don’t belong to my realm
    Maybe it is the case I change my windows in front of a sarcastic landscape
    Who could enquire what is real?
    So many fragile lies built under the shape of a high castle
    Not visible anymore
    Relying on the benefit of the doubt too many times
    I decided to move to another world
    Obsession for knowledge
    And the dominion of words and imaginary scenarios
    The obliteration of ignominious dreams in the darkness
    Dreaming is like breathing

    A comfortless dreary sky
    A misty veil of rain and storm
    A sublime ecstasy of a soothing slumber
    In an obscure realm of illusions and dismay
    Amidst a very midst of a dim sea
    The sun seems to glare through the gloomy clouds
    Cold darkness in existence with no thoughts or wisdom
    It abides only bliss beyond reality
    In a universe that is getting apart
    Whenever a dream reveals its mysteries from nothing
    The eternity of time is too far from the truth
    And brightness abides among the grey stars in the skies
    Greeting every emotion in vain
    My only place to be is with sorrows
    Which are no longer lies
    My heart became sweet as the snow
    My dark path conducts me to the loneliest room
    With gentle solitude and no comfort or rest
    Once the mystery of each star is disclosed
    A slight wind of fear will blow inside my soul.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

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