Undisclosed secrets were kept inside antique grimoires like precious jewels well preserved in inaccessible treasure chests. While I was insensitive to the gripping cold wind of the night surrounding me, I fell into a state of torpor maintaining an absolute stillness. Although I had no particular attitude of letting events overwhelm me, I could not resist the escalation of events my fate decided to divulge to me. Memories drifted slowly through my mind, weighing down my heart like burdens too heavy to bear. That excruciating pain that tormented the deepest recesses of my heart had never left me alone, not even during the deepest sleep. And it was precisely in the deepest darkness that I rediscovered my secret refuge of peace and solitude. No mortal who happened upon those enchanting books would have been able to find—let alone decipher—the undisclosed secrets I myself had inscribed in my magical grimoires. Night became eternal, and I had become a creature of darkness, shunning the prying eyes of humankind, with whom I no longer had any connection. Silently, I listened to the melody of the stars gleaming in the gloomy sky like everlasting flames. The sound of faraway bells evoked spirits that seemed like the shadows of my fears, which had not yet dissolved into nothingness. The anguish I felt plunged me into an ocean of unease and a peculiar kind of mourning that deprived me of all my desires. Those undisclosed secrets I tried to preserve were no longer where I had placed them in the form of arcane symbols; in fact, my grimoires had become blank-page books immersed in the emptiness of oblivion. My memories faded away afterwards as if I were a creature with no past, living in a wintry realm where time had been obliterated. Regrets and disappointments turned my heart to stone, and nothing could touch my sensitive inner self anymore—not even the bitter, permanent loss of my most cherished undisclosed secrets.
Elisabetta Esther
Tag: esoteric poetry
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Undisclosed Secrets
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The Magic Foggy Night
The magic foggy night became my night of dreams and fantastical visions. A bright, cloudy full moon stirred delightful emotions in my heart, cherishing a marvellous melancholy and sordid dismay. My attention was astonished by the sight of a stack of weathered antique books illuminated by a flamboyant candle beside a shining brass armillary sphere. The magic foggy night didn’t reveal its secrets, so I tried to talk to an esoteric book with celestial motifs, asking questions about that mysterious wisdom I was not supposed to know. As I proceeded in my questionable quest, I caught sight of a glowing glass lantern, while a solitary black raven perched on the weathered stone balcony railing amid climbing ivy. In solitude, I was resolute enough to disclose every aspect of my bizarre fate, which never failed to surprise me. As long as the magic foggy night made my imagination more unpredictable and hectic, it caused me to lose my ability to be comforted by my slumbering rest. Many doubts crossed my mind uncomfortably as I gasped uneasily whenever I realised that all I was glimpsing was a pristine daydream. It seemed that beauty was an ephemeral manifestation of my evanescent dreams. For too long I let my expectations fall into the abyss of decay, and in vain I waited for an impetuous storm to invite me into another realm. Nevertheless, the blemishes in my heart became engraved truths, which were too harsh to endure as I became more aware of the desolation of my existence. The magic foggy night had made me acquainted with nocturnal creatures and forbidden knowledge at the sight of splendour and magnificence. Alas, so abruptly time had passed, and oblivion claimed all those treasures, which hitherto had been my cherished belongings. Therefore, my flamboyant candle with the shining brass armillary sphere and weathered antique occult books together with the glowing glass lantern faded away into the void of the gloomy night. The solitary black raven flew high up into the sky until it lay beside the glistering stars. All that remained to be seen was the withered ivy and some relics of my whispers of despair. The magic foggy night had been just an illusion; a dream that didn’t accompany me for as long as I wished. The night’s deception was but an evanescence, vanishing into the darkness and leaving behind nothing but the bitter remembrance of a resplendence that had never truly been mine.
Elisabetta Esther


