Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: enchanted castle

  • The Kingdom Of Eternal Twilight

    The Kingdom Of Eternal Twilight

    The kingdom of eternal twilight appeared like an exquisite chimaera
    My fantastic secret realm belonged only to forgotten legends
    For centuries and epochs, it was just a dream
    However, whenever it was, it manifested as a tangible creature of my fantasies
    Always crowded with crimson roses and skies that no mortal painter could ever imitate

    The kingdom of eternal twilight was extremely tangible in all its absurdity
    Every lantern illuminated a promise rather than a path
    And every flower bloomed with memories that no longer belonged to me
    But to oblivion
    Each crimson rose released gems of wisdom under the shape of glimmering stars
    Since the day they had never belonged to any living soul
    Their petals shimmered like fragments of remote sunsets
    While ethereal clouds carried arcane prophecies

    The kingdom of eternal twilight manifested in all its magnificence
    Every dream of mine did let me discover magic gardens and enchanted meadows
    It was an outlandish realm with magnificent castles
    Where behind each gothic archway there was not another room
    But an abyss of enigmas and unattainable dreams
    Which had patiently awaited to epitomise delights and nightmares for centuries

    I discovered mysterious labyrinths where scarlet birds sang forsaken hymns beneath trees adorned with silver leaves
    A marvellous unicorn emerged from the mist, crowned with branches of golden flowers
    Then, they silently gazed into my eyes as though I were an old acquaintance since eternity
    I followed their trail through an emerald maze where countless fountains reflected impossible constellations
    At the centre of those mesmerised surroundings, I found a magic fountain surrounded by stone flowers
    Somehow, it seemed to me that that bizarre place had been waiting for me hereafter

    Perhaps the kingdom of eternal twilight had never belonged to my dreams
    Maybe my dreams had always belonged to it
    Or possibly I had always belonged to my dreams and never to myself.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • Wandering In Oblivion

    Wandering In Oblivion

    Wandering in oblivion with the certitude in my heart that I belonged more to my afflictions than to my desires
    I knew not where my fate was taking me
    The only inevitability I couldn’t avoid was my obsessive quest to follow my dreams
    My fantastic world was all I demanded so impulsively
    And that everlasting flame was glowing intensely into my heart

    I felt betrayed by the time and all the previous events that dragged me into the pit of anguish
    It was real as much as I was breathing, and I couldn’t prevent being overwhelmed
    A huge imaginary mountain was on my chest, for I didn’t realise I had brought such huge exhaustion over and over again for a considerable time, too many times
    Lost and deluded, I chose seclusion as a way to bear that overflowing burden

    So far I wandered that I got lost in mazes and forests, for I was seeking pursuits and chances
    Even though I knew there was no compass guiding me in the infinite darkness of the nights I spent in dizziness and confusion
    Bitter was the dismay that distressed my heart in the loneliest journey of my existence
    Whenever I searched for comfort, I only found sparse, few and far-between hopes for a spark of delight

    The sunlight became bright and dark, creating shadows all over my path, while the moon advanced with pride as the queen of the long nights when my slumber was trembling with fear of the unknown. At last, I could hear the silence whispering presages and tales. Hence, there I was, lonely in my frailty and chaos, never ready for new adventures whilst wandering in oblivion and suspense. I had forgotten all my bygone remembrances as well as my name and my most cherished dreams.

    As long as the moon shone alongside the stars, I could make wishes that shattered at the mountain’s peak. But all fell silent, and I remained in my castle, admiring the splendid panorama before me.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • The Shadows Of My Dreams

    The Shadows Of My Dreams

    The shadows of my dreams vanished in the emptiness of the night when silence dared to whisper obstreperous secrets.

    So much I coveted to let my fantasy free and untamed that I was willing to let the night sky overwhelm me with its mysterious beauty and fearlessness.

    An enchanted castle was my invisible dwelling where I could play hide and seek with the stars. At the same time, the silver moonlight shone through the crystal chandelier of my empty house.

    The light hid behind the dark shadows, and everything seemed more blurred and phantasmagorical

    The further my imagination travelled, the greater was the confusion that ruled my heart, and finally I was finding leisure while obscured by magnificent clouds

    It seemed to live in the realm of dreams and illusions with no quest for a destination, and no interest in a time-bound domain of decrees

    Time had fallen into oblivion, and nonsense became wisdom, for I was no longer obliged to follow the restrictions of shallow humans

    I was the ruler, and I allowed myself to surrender to the shadows of my dreams as if I were unaware of any consequences

    A realm made of shadows and dreams had become my cherished abode where I could sense protection and immortality

    No mortal could harm me anymore or spoil my treasured dreams because I had by then become out of their reach

    Could I have endured those ephemeral circumstances? I knew not, since I had chosen to live in obliviousness to immerse myself in the ocean of bliss

    The night was a valley of tranquillity, and the silence encouraged me to overcome my fear of being unsteady

    Unquestionably, unsteadiness had become my inevitability, and the infinity of the night’s darkness welcomed me in its majestic embrace, full of the shadows of dreams.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • Between Dust And Mirrors

    Between Dust And Mirrors

    Between dust and mirrors
    I carried silent letters,
    wrapped in paper made of mist and waiting,
    not filled with confidence—
    but with enchantments.

    I did not know, yet I knew.
    The Sun had greeted me,
    upright, high—
    as in those cards that never lie.

    And I walked,
    through the lower kingdom of the nameless city,
    through the fractures of reality
    none of my sages could explain:
    a black swamp,
    where humanoid larvae and shrieking wraiths
    bared their shadowy teeth
    and brandished blades in the rancid air.

    All was corrupted.
    All was decay.
    Creatures of the underworld
    called me bright star,
    tried to seize me,
    to drain the last whole word from my lips.

    But I walked still,
    even with the Chariot reversed,
    even as the Hanged Man spoke from his unseen cross,
    even as the Moon, askew,
    laughed behind her veil of deception.

    I walked on,
    I proceeded with endurance
    carrying my letters of destiny
    and a name no one can pronounce.
    Unknown among the ruins of grandeur,
    a pilgrim between topaz and filth.

    And then I saw it.
    On the horizon, beyond the bridge of centuries,
    stood an enchanted castle.
    My cherished palace.
    Towers gleaming like guarded dreams,
    mirrored waters whispering of other realms.
    And there, behind an eternal glass veil,
    sat my holy icon,
    keeper of the visions and silence.
    A beacon for those who have lost their path
    but not the flame.

    However, atop those gilded peaks,
    behind windows lit by empty feasts and fools’ champagne,
    The puppets of excess laughed,
    tripping over their own void.
    There, power wears the mask of the jester.

    Nonetheless, between dust and mirrors,
    I carried sorcery and spells.
    Broken enchantments,
    witchcraft writhing in blood-stained claws,
    arcane revelations seeping from the soil like forgotten rites;

    Tarot glyphs ignite beneath cursed fangs,
    a pact inked in shadows and old essence.
    A thread of fate winds unseen,
    binding my name to the arcane roots.

    Thus I crossed
    the border between realms that do not convey,
    with a sharpened awareness
    of one who can no longer close the eyes—
    not even to dream enchanted chimearas.
    Elisabetta

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