Tag: envy

  • With A Shadowed Soul

    With A Shadowed Soul

    With a shadowed soul and a heart in pieces,
    I proceeded without direction and without refuge
    In the vast expanse of works of eternal beauty and magnificence,
    In my solitude, misunderstood and isolated,
    shunned for my identity,
    always having to hide like a creature invisible to mortals,
    yet present and alive,
    With a heart burning like an unquenchable flame.

    Deafening noises haunted me,
    And I sought to hide as far away as possible
    In a clearing of unquenchable and precious peace.
    I dodged mortals, I dodged their wicked and illusory souls;
    beings I deemed unworthy even of their glance upon me.

    The thorns of my sorrows pressed into my heart,
    making it bleed.
    It had become like a kind of gigantic sculpture
    that radiated pain and the weight of life,
    But also ardour and passion.

    The envy and jealousy of petty, tainted beings
    left traces of filth and decay
    upon my veil of protection and innocence.
    The sacredness and devotion of my heart
    had been contaminated and defiled
    by their greed and rotting wickedness.

    Their twisted faces bore a grin of satisfaction
    and, at the same time, of bitter corruption,
    to the point that their faces were disfigured
    by sores and deformities,
    as if they had contracted leprosy
    or some terrifying disease.

    My search for untainted love and the sublime had become impossible,
    for the shadows of these monsters,
    whose cruelties towards me were unparalleled and horrific,
    obstructed the view and the landscape
    to the point that I could see no more,
    And the fog filled my eyes,
    And I saw only darkness—
    The vastness of oblivion tried to swallow me.

    By now, the veils of illusion had fallen to the ground,
    And I could see reality as it truly was,
    For those bitter disappointments I was experiencing
    In those very moments of contrition
    had helped me to see those malevolent and dreadful souls
    for what they truly were.

    With a shadowed soul, I remained abashed,
    standing at the edge where hope and despair are mashed.
    Elisabetta

  • An Unempirical Realm

    An Unempirical Realm

    An unempirical realm
    As a characteristic of nature
    Poetry is an environment of emotions
    It is pretty far from pleonexia
    But extremely close to lavishness
    Wisdom is an ethereal essence
    Created to live a life of bliss and joy
    It is unfathomable and conceivable
    Nature is in everything and nothingness
    Time continues until darkness end
    A day lost in hope is lost forever
    Exhaustion of delight and lust
    An honour of anguish and hopelessness

    An unempirical realm of mystery
    Where the mind is detached and unrestrained
    A lifetime becomes an instant
    Time is unrepeatable
    The world is peaceless
    Recycled wounds are made of illusions
    Grasping the endless void of emotions futilely
    In a universe of solitons and darkness
    The emptiness becomes glorified and celebrated
    A single time of consciousness is enough
    The cosmic waves and oceans are made of ideas
    Everything gets lost in time and forsaken
    Forgotten and eternal worlds

    An unempirical realm of nature
    Enchanted without any meaning
    When every word is denied
    Seeking the beginning
    With rare selfishness and envy
    An intelligible system of life
    A single extraordinary and unknown universe
    Among the several ones
    In acts of worldly senses
    Escaping the sight of light and reality
    The realm of the depths of life
    Nothing to achieve and reach by
    But only the silence of peace

    An unempirical realm
    A landscape of old times
    The egotism of truth and denial
    The void of love and greed
    In search for a space and dimension
    By the inescapable soul enchantment
    With so many fallen dreams and precariousness
    When I perceive the shadows of the stars
    Struggling with every kind of achievement
    A devotion which was lost and recovered
    Holding a vision meant no sympathy
    The essences of life and death are enclosed
    With so many spasms of a new creation.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

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