Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: dark imagery

  • Twilight Shadows

    Twilight Shadows

    Twilight shadows have haunted me since ages past,
    granting me no peace, clutching at my heart,
    seeking to offer it to their jagged, divine limbs.
    Born free, I became a slave—
    In a prison whose bars and chains
    were unbreakable and unseen,
    visible only to me,
    As I perished day by day,
    destroying every single one of my dreams.

    Their song had hypnotised and enchanted me, initially.
    Then it became a funeral symphony, a mournful song,
    which followed me everywhere and gave me no peace.
    Although I sought refuge, tried to seek refuge,
    in the most hidden hiding places of my imagination,
    these spirits of the realm of shadows and torments pursued me everywhere.

    In enchantment and in fright, I found myself in a labyrinth of confusion and madness,
    where reality was hallucination and illusions were reality.
    I could no longer discern what my will truly desired.
    I could no longer understand whether my madness was my salvation
    or my wisdom was a source of death and oblivion.

    Fear and anguish had pierced my heart, which was now torn apart and could no longer hold any hope, any pleasure;
    And so my body was covered with marks and symbols carved into my skin like arcane and profane signs,
    sometimes mystic and sometimes sacred.

    And suddenly I found myself in a dark room of mirrors and shards that wounded me everywhere and tore my garment.
    So battered, I went on, trying to find a way out. Still, in fact, the more I proceeded, the deeper I ventured into the labyrinth of a world that did not belong to me,
    but demanded me and wanted my soul and my heart, even my remains as a deceased.

    Twilight shadows had become my only destiny, imperishable, unyielding and cruel,
    from which it was impossible to escape.
    I belonged to them like a helpless and powerless creature,
    without hope of ever having a future of light and beauty.
    Lisa

  • The Broken Mirror

    The Broken Mirror

    The Broken Mirror
    by Esther Elizabeth Racah

    The broken mirror reflected a fractured world,
    Facades twisted in the distant light,
    The truth was lost as reflections swirled,
    Clarity faded into the night.

    Each crack told tales of dreams once whole,
    Fragments were part of a distorted show,
    Sighs echoed from the secret dwellings of fractured souls,
    In the broken mirror’s shadowed glow.

    Silvered edges framed distorted scenes,
    A face with sights that could not be seen,
    Reflections trapped in shattered visions,
    Lost within chaotic reverie.

    The silvery glass spoke in muted, splintered tones,
    Revealing truths twisted and blurred,
    A thousand shards held silent moans,
    Where broken images remained unheard.

    Each piece held a sliver of the past,
    A memory splintered and unclear,
    In the mirror’s grasp, shadows cast,
    Untangling what was once held dear.

    Fractured light created a maze,
    A labyrinth of tales left untold,
    In this mirror’s cryptic haze,
    The past’s reflection turned cold.

    A portrait shattered by unseen hands,
    Happiness’s tales lost in grief’s embrace,
    Mirrored fragments dispersed across lands,
    Of broken hopes and shattered dreams.

    The broken mirror remained a cryptic guide,
    A map of what was lost and found,
    In its shards, the truth tried to hide,
    Within a maze where secrets were concealed.

    Every shard held a story half-told,
    A glimpse into lives that had been,
    In the mirror’s shattered, fractured folds,
    Dwelled memories of what was once seen.

    The surface, once clear, now lay in pieces,
    A burst image of days gone by,
    The obliterated mirror retained its silent secrets,
    In fragments where shadows still lie.

    As the pieces lay scattered and cold,
    The reflections faded out of view,
    In the broken mirror’s cryptic hold,
    The past’s echoes bid farewell.

  • The Abyss Of Forgotten Hopes

    The Abyss Of Forgotten Hopes

    The abyss of forgotten hopes allured with a voiceless scream,
    A vast infinite void where shadows reigned,
    Where forsaken desires decayed like bones,
    Crushed beneath the weight of time.

    Cracked mirrors reflected hollow eyes,
    Lost souls searched for what couldn’t be found.
    Their hands grasped at phantoms,
    Yearning for the warmth of life,
    Yet meeting only cold echoes of despair.

    In the garden of silence,
    Wilted flowers drank from poisoned wells.
    Memories, once vibrant, dissolved,
    Fading into a mist of oblivion,
    Where every step led to nowhere.

    The wind moaned through hollow trees,
    Carrying whispers of ancient grief.
    No one heard their lament,
    No one answered their call.
    Only the moon, pale and distant,
    Watched with indifference.

    Here, the hours blended into endless nights,
    A place untouched by morning’s light.
    Dreams rotted in forgotten corners,
    And nightmares rose like smoke
    From the ashes of yesterday’s fire.

    The void stretched wide,
    A maw that devoured all it touched.
    Those who wandered too close
    Were swallowed whole,
    Becoming echoes in the empty dark,
    Their stories were untold, their voices erased.

    In this land of shadows and sorrow,
    Only the void remained.

    Faint whispers lingered in the air,
    Threads of forgotten lives unravelling.
    They twisted and coiled around the bones of trees,
    Fading into the night like dying embers.
    Ghostly figures glided across the mist,
    Eyes vacant, hearts hollow.
    Each step left no trace behind,
    As if existence itself dissolved
    In the presence of the void.

    A fractured melody drifted from afar,
    A distant song, too broken to recall.
    It echoed off jagged cliffs,
    Waking ancient spirits from their sleep.
    They rose from the depths of the abyss of forgotten hopes,
    Moving like shadows through the fog,
    Their fingers brushed the edges of reality,
    Tearing the fabric of the world
    With unspoken despair.

    The stars above, once guiding lights,
    Fell like shards of shattered glass,
    Cutting through the sky with silent descent.
    Each one extinguished a forgotten hope,
    Buried in the black soil
    Of a world that no longer remembered
    What it meant to dream.

    In the endless mire,
    The earth yawned wide,
    Swallowing the last remnants of hope.
    The living and dead entwined
    In the dance of oblivion.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

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