Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: dust

  • Ecstatic Beauty

    Ecstatic Beauty

    Ecstatic beauty reigned in frenzies and storms
    In the castle of dreams, magnificence was shrouded in the mist of mystery
    A sanctuary of shining stars and dark shadows
    A throne of sagas and lost kingdoms
    Where secrets lingered in the silence of forgotten ages

    Listening to the melody of silence under the shadows of an ancient tree
    I rose from my slumber, thinking about my crushed dreams
    It was like my heart stopped pounding
    And I could feel pins of dismay piercing it
    Suddenly, I realised that I was a doll made of rags

    I was no longer in the material world of reality
    I was in a utopia that had the scent of nightmares
    The ecstatic beauty of my fantasies was disappearing
    Instead, I was surrounded by an overwhelming stillness
    While a suffocating silence pressed against my chest

    The colourful shades that once tinted my dreams faded into ashen hues
    And the aura was filled with regrets
    I felt the heft of forgotten longings
    As if the very ground beneath me was swallowing every fragment of my soul
    The dreams that once ignited my spirit now seemed distant luminaries

    All the stars were lost in the vast and endless abyss
    And I was alone, surrounded by fears and uncertainties
    The cold breeze that was once gentle now howled like an anguished wail
    Becoming the messenger of voices that had long since been hushed
    I strived to reach for something but I could only grasp the emptiness

    No ecstatic beauty was there anymore
    Indeed, it was a souvenir of the dreams I could never touch
    The darkness stretched endlessly
    Wrapping itself around me
    A cloak of gloom I could not escape

    In this realm, where no answer could have been found
    Only enigmas were echoing in the quietness
    And in that startling silence, I realized that my castle of dreams had crumbled to dust
    And I was just a forgotten soul left to wander its ruins.
    Elisabetta

  • The Echoes of Dust

    The Echoes of Dust

    The echoes of dust rumbled in halls once grand,
    Now only stripped of light,
    Where shadows crept to drown the night,
    The echoes of dust stirred, though no one spoke,
    A distant memory awoke.

    The ancient tapestries, now frayed and torn,
    Once told of splendour, now forlorn,
    Their colours dulled by time’s cruel hand,
    As dust engulfed this fallen land.

    The mirrors were cracked, no faces shown,
    But whispers from the long ago,
    Reflections of a life erased,
    Now swallowed by the void’s embrace.

    The chandeliers no longer gleamed,
    Their crystals dim, devoid of dreams,
    They dangled low as if to fall,
    A final toll within the hall.

    And in the air, a lingering chill,
    A scent of dust that did not stand still,
    It twisted and curled like faded smoke,
    A phantom of the words unspoken.

    The noises of footsteps of forgotten years,
    Once filled these halls with hopes and fears,
    But now they faded, like fleeting breaths,
    Replaced by stillness, cloaked in death.

    What ghosts remained, though none were seen,
    In every crack, in every seam?
    What tales were buried in the stone,
    Of sorrows known and seeds unsown?

    Since time, it claimed both joy and woe,
    And left behind a silent show,
    Where every room, so cold, so vast,
    Replayed the moments of the past.

    And here, within these walls of dust,
    Where once was love, there was only rust,
    The echoes of dust lingered, faint and frail,
    A mournful song, a timeless wail.

    What secrets did this place once keep,
    Now buried in its endless sleep?
    For, in the end, all things must fade,
    Forever, in deep shadows, the silence lay.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Swamp Of Fear

    The Swamp Of Fear

    The swamp of fear and dismay,
    A realm of no escape and no hope,
    Where nightmares ruled slumber
    And hypnosis betrayed ingenuity.

    Idiotic mirrors cast spells over the crowd of senseless ghosts,
    Deprived of every speck of wisdom,
    Wandered in the darkness without a reference,
    Believing the lie as truth.

    Sour tears fell upon the garden of obliviousness,
    A place of refuge for those who sought to destroy memories,
    Confident that the pain would disappear,
    As a vanishing dream in the valley of grief.

    But the shadows only deepened,
    And the weight of forgotten sorrow lingered still.
    In the labyrinth of shattered dreams,
    Each step carried the echoes of forgotten screams.

    Unseen needles pulled at the strings of consciousness,
    Twisting reality into grotesque shapes,
    Ghouls bled into nightmares.
    In the distance, a phantom bell tolled,
    Ringing for the lost souls who kneeled before oblivion.
    They whispered prayers to a silent void,
    Sought release, yet were trapped in endless woe.
    The fog of despair thickened,
    The swamp of fear swallowed all light.

    And the stars themselves flickered out,
    As if extinguished by unseen forces.
    Through tangled vines of despair,
    The withering winds howled secrets untold.

    And the void, cold and indifferent,
    Watched over the endless night of the forsaken.
    Faint glimmers of false hope flickered,
    Only to be swallowed whole
    By the ever-hungry void.

    In this realm where time did not exist,
    The living and dead became entangled,
    Their souls entwined in a dance
    Of eternal unrest.

    The swamp of fear stretched further,
    Claiming all that wandered near.
    In the end, nothing remained
    But relics of forsaken entities
    And dreams that had turned to dust.

    In the suffocating dark,
    A silent scream drowned in the abyss,
    And the cursed lantern faded,
    Leaving nothing but shadows,
    As the swamp of fear spread across an eternity,
    And all sank into oblivion.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Melancholy Manor

    The Melancholy Manor

    The melancholy manor, grand yet worn,
    Hosted a ghost of sorrow born,
    Its halls were cold, its rooms were bare,
    With echoes of despair.

    The chandelier, it swayed with ease,
    In the drafts of phantom breezes,
    Its crystals caught the moon’s cold light,
    Casting shadows in the night.

    Portraits hung on walls of dust,
    Faces faded, lost to rust,
    Their gazes, they followed every move,
    In this mansion, none could have soothed.

    A piano in the corner stood alone,
    Its keys were untouched by mortal hands,
    It played a tune of deep lament,
    A melody of sorrow spent.

    In the library, books decayed,
    Their pages brown, their words away,
    Each ancient tome was a tale of love and loss,
    Of souls that paid the highest cost.

    The garden, wild with creeping vines,
    Its beauty was lost to dark edges,
    A fountain dry, its waters gone,
    A symbol of what’s passed and done.

    The mirrors cracked, reflecting the past,
    Of memories that could not have lasted,
    A phantom’s face, a spectral tear,
    They waited for someone who was not near.

    The staircase creaked with every step,
    A sound that made the silence weep,
    Its bannister, a cold embrace,
    Of hands that longed for warmest grace.

    The clock ticked in mournful chime,
    A metronome of endless time,
    In every corner, shadows played,
    In the manor, where ghosts stayed.

    Whoever found themselves trapped inside,
    This house of sorrow, thick and evanescent,
    Remembered those who lived before,
    And left their grief within its doors.

    The melancholy manor was silent and forsaken,
    On the inside, lingering threads of lost despair,
    The manor held its secrets tight,
    Within the grip of endless nights.

    Cobwebs draped like silken shrouds,
    Ensnaring dreams beneath their clouds,
    Time was immutable in haunted gloom,
    Where sorrow was the only bloom.

    Outside, the wind began to howl,
    Echoing the manor’s mournful growl,
    The world moved on, but there it stayed,
    A relic of the lives betrayed.

    No respite from the phantom’s call,
    Bound to the melancholy hall,
    The manor wept with ghostly grace,
    A timeless, haunted, solemn place.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Veil Of An Old Mill

    The Veil Of An Old Mill

    The veil of an old mill creaked with age-old strain,
    Its wheels no longer turned in light,
    Silent then, the gears refrained,
    From whirring through the endless night.

    The river’s edge was overgrown,
    With tangled weeds and mossy grey,
    And in the stillness, whispers droned,
    Of lives long lost and slipped away.

    The shadows in the windows loomed,
    Their outlines blurred in spectral hue,
    A faded light, a musty gloom,
    Where time had etched its darkened view.

    The mill’s dark loft, a hidden place,
    Where time and dust had left their mark,
    Held secrets veiled in darkened space,
    And echoes from a past gone dark.

    Beneath the beams, the dust lay thick,
    With traces of forgotten lore,
    A murmur there, a shiver quick,
    Of tales that haunted the old mill’s floor.

    The wheelhouse was then empty, bare,
    Yet something stirred within the deep,
    A restless breath hung in the air,
    Where ancient sorrows lay asleep.

    In a moonlit haze, the spirits danced,
    Around the mill’s forsaken heart,
    Their steps a spectral, mournful trance,
    That shadows in the night imparted.

    And though the mill was still and cold,
    Its heart still beated with ghostly grace,
    The veil of time was dark and old,
    Yet whispers haunted its hollow space.

    The creaking timbers groaned and moaned,
    As if they held a mournful tale,
    With each gust of wind, a spectral groan,
    Each creak, a whisper of the pale.

    The empty gears and rusted chains,
    Now silent in their ancient sorrow,
    Spoke of labour lost in vain,
    And ghosts that lingered through the morrow.

    The old mill’s walls were etched with dirt,
    A canvas of the ages past,
    Each crack and stain, a mark of time,
    Where shadows of the lost were cast.

    The echoes of the past remained,
    In every corner, every seam,
    A place where sorrow’s ghosts sustained,
    And shadows wove their haunting dream.
    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

  • Soft Torments

    Soft Torments

    Soft torments from a poison cup
    Like a dream
    I hold my hopes in vain
    My life is in ache with joys and time
    Far away
    It would not be so late
    To light my pleasure at the silent sight
    Before the storm comes
    I may know that life has faded away
    Because I have lost myself
    And still, it’s not fair

    Soft torments of past mistakes
    A burden that I must pay
    Life was past and dead
    It’s time to learn a new world
    Lost time to defeat
    The dust touched my heart
    And memories could save my mind
    To feel just the dreams of the ocean
    Into my inner space
    A soul could be lost on earth
    Cold like dust and dark like rain

    Soft torments of time
    Building my fantasies made of paper and darkness
    The waves of rainfall cannot feel alone in the blue
    In a beautiful state of deprivation
    Stars are full of fears
    As anguish is forever gone
    In the immensity of the dusk
    The cold light of my life has come to wait
    No pleasure was a wonder to behold
    Falling to weep
    When the heart is full of grief

    Soft torments I had achieved in vain
    Silver clouds still glowing in the sunlight
    A remorseless sight of betrayal in the fragrance of the summer
    The melody that stirs death in nature
    Under the light of flashes dropping in the darkness
    In this sky, my soul cannot be filled with a gleam
    An eternal poem about life
    When the gloominess of every thought perishes in new longings
    Whispering words of pain move through my mind
    Sometimes it’s amusing what wisdom can reveal in the empty obscurity
    Once everything disappears from my glimpse
    Drops of flame lure my heart
    Forever and ever.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Nothingness In The Realm Of Dust

    The Nothingness In The Realm Of Dust

    The Nothingness In The Realm Of Dust

    The time encloses a sorrow
    The wind touches a breathtaking and dazzling rainbow
    A cloud entwines an unending instant
    The obscure sky burns the emptiness
    The nothingness in the realm of dust is endless
    A siren enfolds a sacred whisper
    A renegade fate spoils my dreams
    The imperfect night shimmers in the candlelight
    The dust devours a dreary reality
    The nothingness in the realm of dust is gloomy
    A shining light melts my surreal dreams
    The absurd intricate destiny appears meaningless
    A broken secret blaze hides whilst glowing
    A fragment of a star wanders in the realm of dust
    The nothingness in the realm of dust is infinite
    A lasting distorted sorrow swirls like a dark waft of smoke
    Seductive memories belong to the time that falters in the mystery of the darkness.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Dust And Deception

    Dust And Deception

    Dust And Deception

    Dust and deception is all I have left
    Everything I built became dust
    Everything I dreamt of became a deception
    Nothing remains in my heart
    Which is aiming to gleam like the stars in the night
    Blank is my mind like the dark void
    Which is not able to rebuild a castle made of dreams
    Disquiet is my mind so engaged in anxiety and haste
    As soon as I perceive the light of a new hope
    It crumbles to pieces like a crystal bowl
    Hence suspended in a spasmodic expectation
    I am lured to the cynicism as a peeled orange
    Which will wither with the time
    And while I am captivated by regrets and discomforts
    Life flies like a rushing torrent amid a quiet forest.
    Esther Racah

© Esther Racah 2025. All rights reserved.