Tag: desolate

  • A Long Night of Desires

    A Long Night of Desires

    A long night of desires and regrets beneath the infinite darkness of the firmament disclosed many dreams and secrets.

    And for each memory, a terrible ghost of the past appeared under the shape of an ominous shadow whose silent scream shattered every flower to dust.

    A fearless storm surrounded the night with its thunders and gloomy clouds, obliterating every trace of beauty from the realm of dreams and darkness.

    Giving way to nothingness and void that swallowed everything with an eerie fury.
    All that remained was a desert with scattered fragments of emotions and love.

    The moonlight lit flames of longing and despair, glinting like shattered glass, trembling with soft murmurs.

    Every blossom of the garden of distress flowered into a withered bloom, and each petal fell like a sour teardrop, dissolving into the sand.

    The inextinguishable emptiness exhaled its yearning across the barren universe, and its absolute silence swelled louder than the storm’s wildest cry.

    Hopes dissolved into the blank abyss like a river of lost dreams flowing to nowhere while love’s faint flames glinted, swallowed by the surreal dimness.

    Into the maze of sorrow, the eternal night became infinite and relentless, with its secrets buried beneath waves of grief.

    Glooms and clouds depleted all the frail remnants of light and joy, replacing them with immense anguish and decay.

    The long night of desires became an endless night of regrets when nightmares swirled around the world like haunting ghouls, tormenting every slumber.

    The infinite abyss of darkness extinguished everything, enclosing every faded memory of a realm once alive and now barely reduced to fragments of despair.

    A wailing blizzard agonised the desert of despair, dragging all the fragments of forgotten dreams and scattering the ashes of love that once burned radiant.

    The stars above, veiled by eternal dismay, became hollow gazes observing the doomed ruins below, becoming witnesses to a tale of a long night of desires devoured by the infinite chasm of oblivion.

    The firmament extended its icy and infinite arms, claiming all and leaving nothing but an absolute silence resounding as a boundless and eternal requiem for dead dreams.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Invisible Sparkle

    The Invisible Sparkle

    The invisible sparkle in a world that doesn’t exist yet,
    Like a flower suffocated by the gelid winter snow,
    Struggling cries of a dream forever stilled, unmet,
    Trapped in shadows where the winds won’t blow.

    A sigh drifted in the void’s hollow sound,
    A glimmer of the sublime that was never born,
    Silence shattered what’s yet to be found,
    A seed of light faded into the abyss, torn.

    A fleeting pulse from a heart too broken to repair,
    A thread of hope tangled in despair,
    Draped in the veil of the endless night’s hold,
    Fading into nothing, lost to the aether.

    In this pointless realm where illusions had become a reality,
    Unseen suns refused to rise or fall,
    A phantom dream trapped in twilight’s will,
    Its presence was known, yet not at all.

    For what existed without a trace,
    What flickers yet was never there,
    Could time revive its fleeting grace,
    Or would it die in hollow air?

    The flower crushed beneath frozen skies,
    Yearning for a spring that would never come,
    A sparkle dimmed in eternal disguise,
    The silent whisper of a life undone.

    Its scent forgotten, its petals closed,
    In a garden where nothing dared to bloom,
    A magic world where the future’s doors were forever closed,
    And the past lay buried in the gloom.

    The invisible sparkle flickered no more,
    A light that faded into the unmarked night,
    Lost in the pages of an unwritten lore,
    A shadow swallowed by eternal delight.

    The frozen winds still howled their song,
    In a dwelling that never came to be,
    And in the silence, lost all along,
    The invisible sparkle faded to memory.

    In the void of a forgotten dream,
    Where the eternity itself unravelled slowly,
    Dreams and fantasies vanished in flow,
    But only shadows knew their woe.

    The invisible sparkle, long since gone,
    Left no mark, no trace, no song.
    In stillness, it forever lies,
    A ghost beneath the unseen skies.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Evanescent Chimaeras

    Evanescent Chimaeras

    Evanescent chimaeras were fragile,
    Like sand castles destroyed by violent tides,
    In the darkness of the night,
    Beneath a starless night sky.

    Lores of lost longings were engraved,
    On every dead leaf intoxicated by the blizzard.
    Fragments of ancient sorrow lingered,
    Frozen in the gusts of a restless wind.

    Shadows stretched like fractured dreams,
    And the moon hid behind a veil of despair.
    Broken mirrors reflected hollow trees,
    Where ephemeral wraiths appeared and faded.

    Their mournful cries dissolved in silence,
    Carried away to oblivion’s edge.
    Serpentine branches clawed at the void,
    Yearning for passions that they had never known.

    While flowers shuddered in the frozen earth,
    Guarding secrets buried deep and cold.
    The realm was endowed with the burden of grief,
    Each sigh was a flake of a dying flame.

    Evanescent chimaeras became crystal gems,
    Sparkling in the night’s relentless embrace.
    A dance of glares and glooms unfolded to disquiet the nighttime,
    In a subliminal fantasy of folly and beauty.

    Time seemed to wither away,
    And every sigh was a dreadful lamentation.
    The sky, an ink-stained canvas torn asunder,
    Seemed to bleed darkness from unseen wounds.

    Stars were but distant memories, fading,
    Like whispers of lost souls slipping into voids.
    Wails echoed through the cold stillness,
    Like ghostly hymns sung for a dying world.

    Mournful notes wrapped around this realm,
    Magic disintegrations obliterated every little light that remained.
    Phantoms wandered aimlessly through the haze,
    Their translucent forms trembled in the cold.

    They traced forgotten paths along the dusk,
    In search of places that no longer existed.
    In the chasm of that haunted silence,
    Evanescent chimaeras turned to dust once more,
    Scattered by the wind, forever vanished.

    Their fleeting dance was a requiem for the lost,
    An elegy woven into the night’s black shroud.
    And as the reality slowly succumbed to oblivion,
    Only despair and sorrow remained.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Despair and Hopelessness

    Despair and Hopelessness

    Despair and hopelessness feasted with silent dread,
    In the cold embrace of twilight’s breeze,
    There lay the ruins of forsaken dreams,
    A web of anguish woven with unseen seams.

    The ancient house, now shrouded in despair,
    With walls that groaned and whispered tales of wear,
    Stood solemn ‘neath a sky of leaden grey,
    Where hope had long since gone astray.

    Once vibrant halls now choked with dust,
    Held fragments of memories turned to rust,
    Windows fractured, eyes that never saw,
    Bore witness to a sorrowful history.

    Chandeliers, their crystals mournfully fraught,
    Cast ghosts of darkness that time had forgotten,
    While the hearth, bereft of warmth and grace,
    Held only shadows in its hollowed space.

    Every creak, a lament of bygone days,
    Every gust of wind, a mournful phrase,
    The very air, steeped in a spectral gloom,
    Carried whispers of a desolate doom.

    In the dim-lit corners of forgotten rooms,
    Rested fragments of unfulfilled blooms,
    A monument to dreams that could not stay,
    Consumed by the creeping grasp of decay.

    Despair and hopelessness filled the staircase,
    Winding in a mournful bend,
    Each step a cry of unspoken dread,
    Leading to realms where spirits feared treading.

    And as the night descended cold and still,
    The house enshrouded in its bitter chill,
    Became a memorial to the forsaken plight,
    A mausoleum for the fading light.

    In this place of despair and endless nights,
    Where hope had vanished from sight,
    The silence grew profound and stark,
    A gravestone to the desolate dark.

    In the ghostly silence, time itself decayed,
    And the weight of despair and hopelessness swayed,
    The walls whispered secrets of endless nights,
    Where shadows writhed in eternal fright.

    Beneath the starless sky’s oppressive dome,
    The house stood as a haunted tome,
    Each room a verse of mournful lore,
    A testament to what once was and not anymore.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • A Dark Dominion

    A Dark Dominion

    A dark dominion where shadows reigned,
    Unfurled its veil of relentless disdain.
    In that realm where existence was stark,
    Brutality’s mark ignited a ceaseless dark.

    The air was thick with cynical mirth,
    A tainted realm where violence gave birth.
    Each breath was a struggle, each hope a jest,
    In that domain where, brutality festered unrest.

    The walls bore scars of relentless abuse,
    In every crack, the screams were still seduced.
    The skies, once clear, now roiled and churned,
    Reflecting the torment for which it yearned.

    Cynicism sprawled like a creeping vine,
    Twisting and coiling with an endless malign.
    The soul, weary and bruised, bore the strain,
    Lost in a tempest of unending pain.

    Where the heart’s desire was but a fleeting ghost,
    And solace remained a fleeting, hollow boast.
    Existence was a cruel jest with no reprieve,
    In that gothic sphere, where dreams grieved.

    In shadows cast by a withering moon,
    The dirge of despair played a mournful tune.
    Each step in that domain was a stumble and fall,
    A relentless march through the endless pall.

    There, every glance was met with disdain,
    Each murmur had been a harbinger of further pain.
    Hope was a spectre, a phantom of the past,
    Lost in the void where shadows were cast.

    The darkness reigned with a suffocating weight,
    A grim reminder of existence’s cruel fate.
    And in that realm where the light was shunned,
    The soul remained lost, forever undone.

    So, in the heart of that desolate night,
    Where existence was a cruel and endless plight,
    Lingering in shadows, forever bound,
    In the dark dominion where despair was crowned.

    Amidst the gloom where suffering was embraced,
    Time blurred, and hope was forever erased.
    The darkness, a tyrant, claimed every breath,
    An eternal waltz with the spectres of death.

    There, in the depths of that forsaken vale,
    Salvation was sought, yet faltered and failed.
    In that dark dominion, bound tight,
    Ensnared in despair’s unending night.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Watcher In The Void

    The Watcher In The Void

    The watcher in the void exists beyond the reach of darkness and light. A shadow crawls—no, creeps—through cracks unseen, where time crumbles and whispers dissolve into nothingness. A hollow and vast eye looms through the endless darkness, constant and unblinking. The pulse of something unknown shudders through the air, a rhythm that defies reason. Has it begun? Will it ever end? The gaze of the watcher in the void pierces through the walls of sanity, unravelling the fabric of reality with a slow, deliberate stare.

    Breath lingers, suspended between worlds that will never merge. The air itself quivers as the void inhales thoughts, exhaling fragments of something twisted and dark. The ground shifts, a subtle tremor beneath unseen steps. Silence hums with tension, and the watcher in the void lingers just beyond the edge of perception. It watches—always watching—staring indefinitely at the infinite abyss of the universe.

    The void is endless—there is no beginning or end—only the infinite eye of the watcher in the void, which never closes and never tyres. Memories scatter like dust, ephemeral and insubstantial, fading into oblivion. Time loops in strange patterns, distorted, lost in the eternal gaze of something ancient, something incomprehensible.

    Echoes drift through the silence, faint and distorted, as if carried from a distant, forgotten realm. The watcher in the void is there, always present, with tendrils of existence coiling through unseen spaces, tightening, constricting, and squeezing until only fragments remain. The eye never wavers, never falters, holding everything in a relentless stare that knows no mercy.

    A scream fades into nothingness, consumed by the void, looping back into itself. The watcher in the void remembers all—every thought, every moment—caught in the never-ending cycle of its gaze. The void is eternal, and the watcher endures, bound to the emptiness, forever seeing, forever waiting. Nothing and no one can escape this lethal and cruel stare, not even the stars.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • A Forlorn Lantern

    A Forlorn Lantern

    A forlorn lantern was enlightening the chasms of midnight,
    Swaying in desolate grace,
    Its flickering light, a spectral frolic,
    Guided the lost in a trance.

    Shadows stretched like ghostly tendrils,
    Across forsaken and haunted lands,
    Sighs of a forgotten past echoed through the night,
    Steadfast in the grip of eternal fright.

    The lantern’s glow was pale and wan,
    Its glimmers Illuminated a path long gone,
    Through mist and gloom, it led astray,
    Guiding dreams that would have lost their way.

    Its glass, shattered by time’s cruel jest,
    Reflected the sorrow of the restless anguish,
    In every flame, a story was hiding,
    Of hearts that once were amiable, now cold.

    In the silence, secrets hid,
    Beneath the lantern’s mournful sway,
    A flare for the cursed and lost,
    In the shadows of the past, they fade away.

    Beneath the crescent moon’s senseless stare,
    The forlorn lantern swung in the damp air,
    A solitary and magical lodestar,
    In the darkness, it did confide.

    Flickers and whispers of bygone dreams,
    Plagued the edges of moonlit streams,
    Where remnants of the long-departed lingered,
    In the glooms of the bygone days, they softly perished.

    An eternal vigil, a silent invocation,
    For those who wandered, lost and bare,
    The forlorn lantern’s light was the only compass,
    In the darkened abyss where shadows sough.

    On every eerie, timeless night,
    The forlorn lantern shone its glare,
    A spectral glow in profound shadiness,
    Guiding the lost who never rested.

    Tormenting echoes of a mournful elegy,
    The lantern’s light lasted all night long,
    Its rays, though faint, still mighty,
    To ward off the nighttime hour by hour.

    A vestige of sorrow’s plight,
    This forlorn lantern was an ethereal gaze,
    Its flame, a lamp for the bewildered,
    Burning through the night despite the strain.

    Each night, as clouds drew near,
    The lantern’s light cast out the fear,
    A solitary star in the infinite dusk,
    Its shine, a faint yet steadfast spark.

    No one knew from whence it came,
    This forlorn lantern, with its everlasting flame,
    But in its glow, the lost wayfarers found peace,
    A moment’s solace, a brief release.

    In the end, the darkness gave way,
    To dawn’s first light, the break of day,
    And the forlorn lantern, in twilight’s gust,
    Owned stories of life, love, and death.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Enchanted Ruins

    The Enchanted Ruins

    The enchanted ruins were lost to time’s embrace,
    Where ivy clung to stone’s cold face,
    The echoes of a past forlorn,
    Resided within the ancient morn.

    The moonlight wove through the broken spire,
    Casting shadows that inspired,
    A mournful dance of spectres old,
    In ruins where their stories fold.

    The crumbling arches, silent wept,
    In sorrow’s breath, the night had slept,
    A whisper through the shattered hall,
    Of secrets lost and shadows tall.

    The ivy wrapped around the past,
    A painting of time steadfast,
    Its tendrils clutched at memories,
    Of joys dissolved in whispered pleas.

    Through labyrinths where echoes played,
    And remnants of the past decayed,
    The silence spoke of love and loss,
    And dreams once magnificent have turned to moss.

    The enchanted ruins were not anymore a majestic mansion,
    They lay beneath the moon’s soft code,
    Each stone was a witness to the years,
    A monument to vanished tears.

    Their splendour, now a fleeting glance,
    In the realm of twilight’s trance,
    Recounted tales of lives once bright,
    Now fading into an endless night.

    The ivy’s grip, a gentle thief,
    Enshrouded the past in quiet grief,
    Its leaves whispered of days gone by,
    Beneath the ever-weeping sky.

    In this desolate domain,
    A certain beauty did remain,
    For through the sorrow, light could trace,
    The haunting grace of time’s embrace was felt.

    Wandering shadows were silent remnants of forgotten tales,
    The moon’s dim light unveiled sorrow’s concealed details,
    In this forsaken place where time ceaselessly failed,
    Ghosts of the past lingered in haunted trails.

    These enchanted ruins held a timeless lore,
    Of what was cherished, lost, and more,
    A spectral dance beneath the moon,
    A memory’s melancholic tune.

    Amidst the echoes, faded sighs,
    The enchanted ruins whispered goodbyes,
    Of vanished joys, solemn grace,
    In the quiet of this haunted place.

    In moonlit silence, shadows entwined with forsaken longings,
    An ethereal realm where dreams once grieved,
    Through time’s embrace and the past refrained,
    A mournful song of bliss and anguish.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Forgotten Chamber

    The Forgotten Chamber

    The forgotten chamber was hiding in the dim recess of an ancient house,
    Where shadows clutched the silent walls,
    A chamber waited with a broken vow,
    Its secrets held in whispers’ thralls.

    Dusty curtains draped the sombre panes,
    Their fabric was frayed by time’s cruel hand,
    The floorboards creaked with ghostly strains,
    In this forsaken, spectral land.

    Beneath the moon’s cold, pallid light,
    The air grew thick with sorrow’s breath,
    Each crevice hid a tale of fright,
    Of restless souls and silent death.

    A mirror cracked, its glass dismayed,
    Reflects not what the eye could have seen,
    But echoes of a past long frayed,
    Where shadows lingered in misery.

    The decrepit pendulum clock stood still, unmoved,
    Its pendulum blade was a haunting lull,
    Tick-tock lost to time’s disprove,
    A rhythm ceased, a heartbeat dull.

    In corners where the darkness draped,
    A chilling breeze began to moan,
    The dust rose in spectral shapes,
    As if the room remembered its own doom.

    A hollow voice from beyond the seam,
    Called out with sorrowful, pleading grace,
    An old and weary, haunting dream,
    Etched in the chamber’s haunted space.

    And though the chamber’s door was sealed,
    Its secrets were still beyond human grasp,
    The echoes of its past were posed,
    In shadows that the night enwrapped.

    In the musty gloom, the cobwebs weaved,
    Their silken threads were ghostly shrouds,
    The echoes of the past deceived,
    As whispers appeared beneath clouds.

    The hearths, now cold, held faint traces,
    Of fires that once burned bright and warm,
    Its ashes held a spectral hue,
    Of days now lost to time’s own storm.

    The wallpaper, peeling with despair,
    Revealed forgotten patterns, old,
    A labyrinth of history’s snare,
    In faded shades of bold darkness.

    The bed’s old frame was creaking still,
    Its linens were yellowed by the years,
    A silent witness to the chill,
    Of sleepless nights and hidden fears.

    The oil paintings on the walls were torn,
    Their subjects were lost in vacant gazes,
    Eyes that followed, forlorn, worn,
    With souls enshrined in a darkened haze.

    The chandeliers, now dark and bare,
    Hung in silence in their spectral grace,
    Their crystals gathered moonlit glare,
    A fractured light in a broken space.

    The cold stone floors were etched with dust and sand,
    Where footsteps faded in muted cries,
    An eternal waltz of eerie time,
    In shadowed paths where darkness lay.

    The old armchair, once soft and grand,
    Were now draped in dust and faded dreams,
    Its cushions held a ghostly hand,
    A spectral touch in quiet schemes.

    The dust motes danced in the still air,
    A ghostly ballet in moonlight’s beam,
    Their silent steps were caught in a snare,
    Of time’s relentless, haunting stream.

    In the attic, secrets lay patiently in wait,
    In trunks and chests of weathered wood,
    Their locks were rusted by cruel fate,
    And treasures lost to darkened mood.

    The scent of old decay persisted,
    Of bygone days and vanished lights,
    A presence in the shadows twisted,
    An unseen guest that haunted the night.

    The floorboards creaked beneath the weight,
    Of memories that will never die,
    Each groaned a whisper of regret,
    A mournful sigh in the darkened sky.

    The broken windows framed the night,
    Their shattered glass was a ghostly screen,
    Through jagged panes, the pale moonlight,
    Revealed the shadows, cold and lean.

    The clock’s hands rested in frozen time,
    A symbol of the past’s cruel jest,
    Its silence spoke of sorrow’s rhyme,
    In the chamber’s timeless, spectral rest.

    In the corners, shadows blended and faded,
    With hints of faces, lost and still,
    They formed a dark and shifting parade,
    In the chamber’s eerie, silent thrill.

    The echoes of a distant song,
    Played softly in the empty halls,
    A melody that once belonged,
    To voices now in shadows’ thrall.

    The scent of old, forgotten flowers,
    Lingered faintly in the air,
    Their petals were lost to fleeting hours,
    And whispers caught in dark despair.

    The staircase winds in haunted grace,
    It steps a path to darkened lore,
    A trail of dust and spectral traces,
    Led to secrets held in yore.

    The walls, adorned with ancient ashes,
    Held stories etched in ghostly art,
    Their cracks revealed the scars of time,
    A memory and testimony to broken hearts.

    The old bookcase stood forlorn,
    Its shelves were now bare and filled with dust,
    Each time, a ghost of knowledge torn,
    From a past that faded to rust.

    The iron key upon the sill,
    Once turned to unlock hidden dreams,
    Now rested in silence, cold and still,
    Its purpose was lost to moonlit beams.

    The echoes of laughter’s tone,
    Were caught within the chamber’s keep,
    A long-gone joy, now overthrown,
    By shadows that, in silence, crept.

    The faded rug on the floor,
    Once vibrant with a grand pattern,
    Now threads of memory, old and sore,
    In the cold embrace of spectral hand.

    The portraits’ eyes, so haunting still,
    Watched over the room’s dismal space,
    Their gazes filled with ghostly chill,
    And secrets were hidden in their face.

    The doorframe creaked with every breeze,
    A sound that stirred the quiet gloom,
    Its hinges moaned in spectral pleas,
    A harbinger of shadowed doom.

    The forgotten chamber held a timeless grief,
    A sorrow cast in the spectral shade,
    Its silence spoke of disbelief,
    And memories that never faded.

    The midnight hour brought shadows deep,
    To weave their tales in moonlight’s veils,
    Darkness where the spirits wept,
    And echoes of the past prevailed.

    The room remained a silent cry,
    A place where time and sorrow met,
    Its broken heart, a ghostly sigh,
    A chamber lost to dark defeat.

    And though the chamber’s door was sealed,
    Its secrets were still beyond human grasp,
    The echoes of its past were posed,
    In shadows that the night enwrapped.

    For in this room of ancient plight,
    The past and present intertwined,
    A haunted realm of endless night,
    Where lost souls in silence pined.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Desolate Echoes

    Desolate Echoes

    Desolate echoes lingered in abandoned chambers of dreams, whispering tales of solitude.
    Shadows cast a loud silence, disclosing secrets in the cold stillness.
    Unheard voices were forsaken since bygone years, and memories were etched in the walls.
    In the quietude, loneliness took its place as a haunting companion.
    Yet within this emptiness, a subtle prowess emerged, somewhat like a silent resistance to the echoes of solitude.
    Life’s intricate story unfolded in the hushed mazes of fantasy, where absurdities encountered reality.
    Among the ruins of neglected reveries, sighs faded with the winds, and heartbeats of longings melted in silent harmonies.
    Twilights painted desolated hues of melancholy as the moonlight weaved tales of forlorn hopes.
    Treads of yesteryears resonated in the haunted dwellings of nostalgia, tracing the path of dreams forever lost to time.
    In the realm of dark shadows, the dance of memories continued perpetually, revealing fragments of elapsed times like whispers in the dusk.
    Amid the debris of desolate thoughts, perseverance bloomed as a quiet anthem of strength rising from the ashes of what once existed.
    In the obliviousness of nonsense and despair, silent and gloomy tears created a mosaic of fate and disgrace.
    The seal of destiny inscribed engravings on the sand, whose strokes weaved threads of anguish and uncertainty into the narrative of time.
    Through the window of dismay, lone stars witnessed the transit of forgotten tales, casting their glow on the realm of the infinity.
    In the secretive silence, unbounded solaces embraced the emptiness of futile yearnings, conveying stories of elusive contentment in the furtive enigmas.
    And all of a sudden, everything was shuttered into fragments of memories of nocturnal nightmares and disrupted relics of elusive weariness in a moonless abyss.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

© Esther Racah 2025. All rights reserved.