Emptiness and oblivion claimed me as if I had lost all my discernment while wandering in the cold night aimlessly. So little was I acquainted with the mysteries of the night, and the more I proceeded, the more I became bewildered, to the point that there was no wisdom in the precious crystals I had found along my route. Every instant I strove to preserve my fragile dreams that the biting and harsh wind longed to take away from me. My attempt to gather the flowers from my secret garden was in vain since that night when my will started to be bent by the spirits of the darkness. Emptiness and oblivion unexpectedly usurped my realm of arcane enigmas and phantasmagorias. Eerie lullabies attempted to enchant me with their cryptic call but no spell could be cast upon me for I was invulnerable to enchantments. No commitments or vows could tarnish my desire for endless emptiness and oblivion. The mirrors in my abode reflected different images of myself each time I stared at them, as if they scrutinised my soul carefully, like mind readers. Underneath antique frocks, a vintage pocket clock sprang like a living creature of the immortal night showing me an hour that was evermore. Small bronze keys peeked out amidst the chaotic jumble of my enchanted manor. Nothing could be the same anymore. All my attempts to use the bronze keys were fruitless, given that I wasn’t able to discover any lock suitable for their size, but in the end, I didn’t care. All of a sudden everything vanished and I was surrounded by emptiness and oblivion, which had obliterated every treasure and possession of mine. Devastation had accomplished its mission properly and darkness suppressed all the light irradiated by the glimmering stars, which were totally concealed by gloomy clouds. I could no longer make out my former path, and in place of my elegant mansion lay heaps of rubble and fragments of my belongings. The supremacy of emptiness and oblivion was unassailable, in fact, they were my cold-hearted rulers. Nothing could have been altered. Even the stars had lost their authority in the firmament, which had now transmuted into the empire of void.
Elisabetta Esther
Tag: eerie poetry
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Emptiness And Oblivion
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The Restlessness Of The Night
The restlessness of the night never left my quiet chamber adorned with ancient mirrors and candles extinguished by the freezing wind of the darkness.
The silence helped my nightmares discourage my heart from holding dear its long-coveted desires.
Henceforth, I tried not to panic when I realised that I couldn’t find any image of myself in the mirrors of my antique manor.
Not even a portrait was there and each time I tried to perceive my countenance, all I could discover was a box full of sand and decay.
The hours sang an elegy for the passing of the night that was infinite and determined to rule hegemony in the realm of my bizarre fantasies and odd revelations.
Magic dreams were only faraway illusions that had been bestowed to me once again only to be left in the abyss of despair with nothing but my vest full of sand and decay.The restlessness of the night offered me the goblet of eternal torment, alluring me with fairy tales and foolish legends.
I wished to become an invisible creature of the gloomy night, however, I could do nothing but observe my name inscribed on every wall and book that I had encountered.
No importance was given to my will since the day I was born beneath the hollow trees of dismay.
The stars manifested their disregard for me, leaving me in my senseless loneliness, at the mercy of the raging storms that would have swept me away.
In vain, I claimed my liberty from that misfortune, but they came to claim me and all that once was mine, the ghouls from the archaic world of my past misadventures.
Perhaps I could have forgotten the sensations of delight and gentle euphoria.
The restlessness of the night had become the portal to my agony and everlasting grief, which never abandoned my aching heart.
Elisabetta Esther -
In The Abyss Of Nightmares
In the abyss of nightmares, I belonged for epochs, which lasted as long as the obliteration of my dreams became predominant. Perpetually, the invasive obsession with liberty and chance came to me oddly; nevertheless, I was not able to grasp the flower of resilience, which was far too unreachable. Soon I realised that the nights had overtaken the days and the sun was forever gone.
The echo of my lost dreams reverberated like a scream from the infernal abode of the forsaken ghouls, whose souls were being kept in a jar of gold and crystals. I didn’t ask for that lugubre situation, as my heartbeat was as slow as the tolling of an antique clock, accustomed to no longer marking time—not even for the mirrors. A downpour supervened, interrupting that solemn silence.
In the abyss of nightmares, I discovered that losing all my hopes and dreams had become my delight and bliss as if I enjoyed the misery I was destined to endure since the beginning of eras. As long as darkness was eternity, no feeling of compassion or consolation could soothe my heart, which had become a stone, for the nightmares were caring for my soul.
Each phantom I encountered showed me a book made of tears and memories, then flashed a sneer at me, as if satisfied to accompany me to the valley of despair and decay. And there I lay on the gelid soil that absorbed every teardrop of mine, giving life to flowers whose petals were made of sharp rocks. No reprieve was hidden behind the portals of that realm under the sovereignty of shadows and darkness.
I didn’t even need to escape from that place anymore because it had become the most intrinsic part of myself as if I were a creature of the abyss of nightmares and perpetual storms since eternity. And even the sun had melted with the moon transforming into a black star likely a massive sphere of obsidian irradiating me with its powerful gloominess as if to welcome me.
Elisabetta Esther -
My Sleepless Nights
My sleepless nights made of grief and regret ensnared me in their murky web, as if to subjugate me to their languid call toward an abyss of misery and anguish. The ocean chanted an elegy for my solemn sorrow, almost as if to ceremoniously celebrate my distress. And even the birds couldn’t help but pity me as my dismay was conspicuous like the ocean waves.
The abyss of shadows welcomed me as if I were destined to lose every wish and hope, for I felt the bitterness of my fate, whose manifestation of generosity took the form of painful anguish. From my tears grew anger and vengeance like evergreen flowers. Memories kept being unwelcome intruders, not leaving me alone even during my peaceful sleep.
The bells of a forsaken chapel rang like spectres of the night, and I felt the solitude grasping me with its intangible strength, as if it wanted me to be part of its deserted realm of invisible and silent creatures. As I proceeded in exhaustion and haze, I couldn’t perceive the sight of the stars, which the gloomy clouds hid behind their majestic veil.
My sleepless nights were not over yet since they had become an endless eternity made of frail dreams and broken promises. Softly the sea breeze stretched the branches of withered trees toward me like arms willing to hug me in their emptiness. A sudden rainfall caused me to lose my route and I became entangled in a secret garden.
In vain I summoned spirits and ghosts to grant me some sort of furlough from my disastrous and tumultuous fortune, which led me to ancient ruins where no dreams were allowed to manifest, leaving me with decayed fragments of elegies that seemed like interrupted magic spells. After all I suffered in my sleepless nights, I had become darkness. And there was no beginning or end in that vast expanse full of sacred oblivion.
Elisabetta Esther -
The Sun Of Dismay
The Sun of dismay irradiated its glowing rays of light all over me, as if I were not aware enough of my cruel fate. I wish I could have escaped from that hostile destiny, but I was bound to it by an eternal oath.
My sighs and tears could not arrest that tragic scenario poised to, all of a sudden, dismiss the totality of my most cherished dreams. Not even the nighttime legends and fairy tales could divert my attention.
The nocturnal echoes of the barn owls and nightjars interrupted my silent contemplation, every time I stared at the moon from my balcony adorned with ancient finds and magical manuscripts.
Beyond the horizon, I was not able to catch sight of anything else but my dreadful fears that filled my heart with a bitter anguish. And suddenly a freezing wind rose, freezing all the mirrors of my antique mansion.
The Sun of dismay didn’t appear anymore since the day I had decided to fall in love with my regrets and solitude. Nevertheless, far away, cast away from my memories, an obsolete shadow kept haunting the peaceful realm of my thoughts.
No candle dared to illuminate the darkness that dwelled in my realm of nightmares and oddities. My reflection in broken mirrors made me perceive that I was an evanescent hologram of my own imagination.
Was all that real or just a dream? A rocambolesque confusion suddenly struck me like a purely casual event. Surreal was everything I ever dreamed of and mostly the suspense of my bizarre fate.
My invisibility was my strength and the loneliness swarming around me tempted me to surrender to every hesitation of mine, even when the Sun of dismay persisted in materialising like an unexpected ghost.
All my wishes vanished and they were replaced by restlessness in the shape of ghouls wandering in the endless labyrinth of my chance, where destiny and randomness became indistinguishable.
Elisabetta Esther -
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 -
Cobwebs
Cobwebs thrived insidious in every corner of forgotten halls,
Where whispers lingered, faint and cold,
The cobwebs twisted like ancient scrolls,
An embroidery of tales untold.Each thread, a relic of decay,
Suspended in eternal night,
A brittle web where shadows played,
Draped in the moon’s forsaken light.Once, the halls had seen great feasts,
Mirths, songs, and countless guests,
But now, the echoes only wept,
For those who’ve long been laid to rest.Beneath the veil of dust and slime,
Laid remnants of another time,
A fractured mirror on the wall,
Reflected a world about to fall.The spiders weaved their endless art,
Tracing webs through every part,
Of chandeliers, once grand, now dim,
Their crystals cracked, their edges grim.Each web they spun was cold and delicate,
A silver thread of death’s design,
It snaked along the wooden floors,
And curls beneath the decaying doors.There were no footprints to hear,
No living soul had ventured near,
But something swirled within the gloom,
A presence sensed, yet not in view.The atmosphere was overwhelmed with silent dread,
As if the house itself was dead,
Yet, breathed a life long since concealed,
Beneath the webs that now congealed.In cobwebs, memories were spun,
Of days long lost, of deeds undone,
And as the wind began to moan,
It echoed the cries of the unknown.The windows rattled in the night,
Their panes were opaque with age and blight,
The webs quiver, stretch, and sway,
As if they lived, as if they played.What secrets did these tendrils keep,
In endless folds, in shadows deep?
What stories hanged in each fine thread,
Woven by the long-forgotten dead?The webs grew thick with dust and time,
A maze of sorrow, dread, and swine,
And as the darkness swallowed everything whole,
It feasted upon the weary souls.Since, in the end, what stretched ahead,
But tangled webs and lives long dead,
In every corner, every seam,
The cobwebs spun a timeless dream.
Esther Elizabeth Racah -
The Scent of Emptiness
The scent of emptiness swept through the hollow air like a deadly breeze,
A gust like a whisper, cold and bare,
It carried with it, faint and slow,
The scent of something lost long ago.It drifted through rooms, abandoned, still,
Through spaces void of life or will,
Where light no longer dared to creep,
And all that was left remained endless sleep.The walls once spoke of ardour and fire,
Of hearts alive with intense desires,
But now they crumbled, feeble and frail,
Their tales of love began to pale.The scent of emptiness, it clung,
A sorrow born of broken things unsung,
Of merriments lost, of fleeting days,
Of shadows in forgotten ways.What once was rich with scented blooms,
It now became a house of vacant rooms,
The echoes fainted, the aura so thin,
Wanderers felt the dark crawl deep within.A withered rose left in a vase,
Its petals were brown, devoid of grace,
However, still the scent of old remained,
A ghost of what it once contained.And as ghouls rambled through the dust,
They felt the weight of brittle rust,
The scent of emptiness, so sweet,
It pulled them closer and dragged their feet.It chilled the skin, it clawed the mind,
With memories cruel and unkind,
A fragrance of despair and fear,
That pulled the soul ever near.In every crevice, every fold,
The scent of emptiness grew bold,
It whispered through the cracks of time,
A lingering perfume of crime.For once, these halls were full of life,
Of joy, of pain, of love and strife,
Now, nothing stirred but silent dread,
Where every dream was long since dead.Yet something lingered in the gloom,
A presence watching from the room,
It smelled the sorrow on the breeze,
And watched as the shadows froze.And in this emptiness, so vast,
The present faded, the future’s past,
For nothing lives, and nothing dies,
In hollow rooms where silence lies.The scent of emptiness remained,
A haunting note, a whispered name,
And though the world outside may turn,
Inside, that scent will never burn.
Esther Elizabeth Racah