A dreamy nighttime resurfaced in my mind as if I were living in that very moment that didn’t last as long as I wished it would. As usual, my flowing dark gown was agitated by the freezing wind while a large white wolf sat next to a black raven perched on the stone pillar with me. From my high stone balcony, I could gaze at a dragon flying in the distant sky, with an embellished archway overlooking a marvellous landscape of a misty valley, dramatic waterfalls, and a sprawling castle complex connected by stone bridges. That was definitely a dreamy nighttime to remember by the light of a warm candlelight, a glowing lantern, and the unperturbed silver light of the moon. My lovely companions could sense all the bitter grief and electrifying fears hidden in my heart no matter how much I claimed that nothing could disturb me. I often asked them about the meaning of existence and the reason why dreams were dissolved by the cynicism and indifference of humankind. Lost in the labyrinth of my thoughts, I let myself be captivated by the enchantment of that realm of beauty and magic, in the hope that I would distract my heart from the anguish that held it entangled in its thorny tendrils. In truth, I was fleeing from myself and from the darkness of the abyss of nightmares that haunted my fitful slumber. Nonetheless, a dreamy nighttime had the power to transform me into a creature of the silent night, inducing me to live a life of starlight and mysticism. In loneliness, I was no longer, absolutely I felt the protection of the fantastic inhabitants of that kingdom of dreamy nighttime. So bright were the luminaries that I felt finally welcomed and included for the very first time in my peculiar reality filled with oddities and delusions. At last, I was allowed to be made of dreams and nightmares, far away from the conventional impediments of humanity. Far away I fled astray, into the endless darkness, where splendid dreams and lugubrious nightmares merged beneath the silver gaze of the moon.
Elisabetta Esther
Tag: castle poetry
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A Dreamy Nighttime
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The Shadows Of Melancholy
Shadows of melancholy perpetually hovered over me like branches of a giant oak tree. No doubt I could have been deceived by my own senses when I discovered that my dreams had vanished promptly from my realm of desires and fears. Even anguish didn’t hesitate to manifest its power over my heart, which was grieving heavenly. Oftentimes I questioned the blank mirrors about my burdensome fate, and all that I could obtain as revelation was an enflamed candle, glimmering like a star in the night sky. Exquisite deep red roses and delicate blue butterflies offered me antique manuscripts as a gift of friendship. The truth was concealed among books and flowers, while the moonlight shone brightly, dazzling me unexpectedly. Perpetual twilight settled over this surreal scene: a majestic stone castle stood on a cliff across a calm lake beneath an immense full moon. As usual, I was staring at the magnificent view from my stone windowsill, where I usually passed my nights among stacked antique books and my beloved hourglass. My ornate mirror reflected the beauty of the surroundings, which seemed increasingly surreal to me. No dismay seemed to attend those moments of leisure while shadows of melancholy constantly cast a shadow over my heart. Nevertheless, the longer I gazed at that splendid landscape the more blurred its reflection became in my mirror. It seemed as though beauty was being enchanted by a magical spell, which was dedicated to eliminating every delight. The tranquil waters of the lake silently swallowed the antique fortress and all the marvellous realm. Undoubtedly, the abysses had taken possession of my realm of blissful dreams, leaving me nothing but some petals of withered roses. All my archaic manuscripts and ancient books disappeared from my sight and in their place there was only dust and fragments of dry leaves. I could feel a gelid breeze surrounding me like an invisible veil and whispering rhymes about the utmost despair, while my wisdom couldn’t perceive any paradox as I became increasingly dazed beneath the shadows of melancholy.
Elisabetta Esther