Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: eternal night

  • Subliminal Madness

    Subliminal Madness

    Subliminal madness dragged me deep into the dungeon of torment and despair
    A fortress where I couldn’t fly with my imagination
    An isolated island of sorrow and heartache
    Chained by the moans of my own thoughts

    Hence, I started to seek shadows instead of light
    I wandered lost in the wilderness and surrounded by absolute silence
    I became a captive to the memories and echoes of the past
    With the certitude that a wicked fate ruled my existence

    All the mirrors around me sought in vain to reveal the mystery within myself
    In the gloom of their cryptic tales
    For I could not comprehend their bizarre words
    Because they were just utterances lost in the infinite void

    In that abyss of subliminal madness
    The relentless wind of laments was blowing against me
    Gelid arrows that pierced through my body
    Fragments of anguish that were sharp daggers

    Profound wounds were carved on my heart
    Too deep for time to mend or forget
    Bleeding sorrows staining the hours
    Instants marked by silent screams

    Grief became a solemn veil that shrouded me
    Memories burned like inextinguishable flames
    And all that remained were ashes of dreams scattered in the wind
    Beneath the moonless dark sky of my endless night

    Nothing remained to me
    Not even a flake of hope
    Not even a fragment of a dream
    But only a subliminal madness to relieve my tragedy

    In silence and solitude
    My life was merely a paroxysm of darkness
    A frenzy of obscure nightmares chased me
    I could only sigh at the sound of raindrops getting me through

    In this desolate maze of endless sadness
    Not even a flicker of defiance was burning within me
    I couldn’t hear any whisper of solace
    I crawled through the mist of my own despair

    The shadows that once enticed me now suffocated me
    And the silence, once my treasured haven, transformed into a dungeon
    Whenever I strived to chase the faintest pleasure
    I was left aimless and shattered

    I still couldn’t find a realm beyond this dark veil
    A world where torments were no longer my torturers
    Hence, I was bound to this endless darkness
    And my heart was filled with subliminal madness.
    Elisabetta

  • The Magnificent Abyss

    The Magnificent Abyss

    The magnificent abyss of infinite darkness
    Was my blissful place where I could embrace my inner chaos
    Given that I loved to embrace my own darkness and I always will
    While sorrow made me become a creature of the shadows

    Indeed, my soul sought the shadows of the night
    My heart was fed with nightmares and anguish
    Despair was my greatest comfort and companion
    Since I was an ethereal entity made of dust of decay

    No mirror could reflect my image
    So much infinite I was inside myself
    So many fragments were part of my heart
    I was an infinite multitude of beings in a world that never existed

    Sublime wonders blossomed around me
    Beneath the shining moon that accompanied the sun
    Everything was glimmering in all its splendour
    I was magic and so was the realm where I was living

    The moon and the sun were my devoted cohorts
    They guided me in my journey through darkness
    I became a creature made of light and shadow
    In the magnificent abyss of infinite bewilderment

    The endless night embraced me softly
    Because I was both darkness and sunshine
    Shining glitters of beauty fell all over me
    And I faded into the ominous void

    As glowing, fleeting stars vanished in the eternal night
    So did I disappear, only to reappear forevermore
    And I drifted through phantasmagorical realms
    Where every dream of mine became reality

    I became a whisper in the storm and an inextinguishable flame in the twilight
    The magnificent abyss was my dwelling
    Where chaos and quietness coexisted together

    In an endless dance of glare and dusk
    I discovered both my demise and my endless obsessions
    I became a foolish paradox and wild creature of the night
    A magic witch and ethereal fairy flying everywhere with beautiful wings made of stardust.
    Elisabetta

  • Shrouds of Anguish

    Shrouds of Anguish

    Shrouds of anguish were overlooking the garden of delights,
    Casting dreadful shadows over the beautiful flower beds,
    Allowing just a tiny glimpse of light to shine through the eternal night,
    In the absolute silence of the darkness, where no one would have dared explore the most remote corners of secrecy.

    Far away from the remembrances of a distant realm,
    Mysterious creatures wandered still,
    Seeking remnants of magnificence lost in the wake of obliteration,
    In the tragic hope of being able to save what was left to cherish.

    Every exquisite dream faded like a fantastic chimaera,
    Lost in the darkness of indifference and stillness,
    Among shadows of laments and annihilation,
    In the vast ocean of nothingness.

    The suspense of fate was like a shining sword ready to obliterate capricious merriments,
    In a kingdom of lugubrious and mournful obsessions,
    Where light had to surrender to the gloom of despair,
    Among shrouds of anguish and disavowal.

    Tales of forgotten aeons lingered in the hollow chambers of the past,
    Threading through the labyrinth of forsaken joys,
    Like faint echoes of a requiem unsung,
    Haunting the ruins of a splendour once divine.

    The desolate soil resounded with the weight of memories too sombre to accept,
    Their jagged shards pierced through darkness’s veil,
    Drawing forth the anguish of eras long buried,
    A threnody that the earth could not quell.

    In the heart of the garden, a single bloom endured,
    Its petals were pale as the moon’s cold gaze,
    Quivering in defiance against the ravenous void,
    Yet bound to the world of sorrow and despair.

    Amidst the transient reign of decay,
    Beauty was but a shadow that wove a firmament of grief,
    Concealing the faint glimmers of the stars that might have existed in an unfathomable abyss,
    Where silence bled through the fractured relics of vanished longings.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Mansion of Anguish

    The Mansion of Anguish

    The mansion of anguish was filled with flowers of dread,
    Sighs echoed in each empty chamber like merry butterflies,
    The scent of betrayal penetrated every crevice of this eerie dwelling,
    As a consequence of broken vows and promises.

    The name of love has been desecrated, and love itself has been obliterated,
    In an extinguished fire, vestiges of mirth were lying,
    Buried underneath a stack of piles of ashes and blood,
    And the pain was carved on each stone.

    Hushed sobs created a fountain of dismay and grief,
    Where solitary souls had the habit of indulging secretly,
    Waiting for their lovers who were never supposed to come back,
    In a frolic of delusional hallucinations and cruel fate.

    In the middle of the night, farewell left their signs on the decayed walls and shattered mirrors,
    Leaving mere remembrances of broken hearts and aborted dreams,
    Beneath the obsessive moonlight, whose frantic light gleams stroke perpetually the dead flowers in the garden,
    While this realm of decay sparkled magnificently in all its darkness.

    Repetitive laments bloomed like blossoms of death,
    Since the mansion of anguish and sorrow emerged as a monument to decadence,
    And every star hid itself from the insistent stare of the moon’s pale and haunting gaze,
    Shadows of forsaken and lost lovers lingered, whispering fragments of unfulfilled desires and regrets into the hollow aura.

    Each murmur was enthralled by the walls that held infinite teardrops of agony,
    And every silent portrait, dimmed by epochs of neglect, seemed to weep silently in unison with the affliction around them.
    The desolate wind sighed through all the halls, shallowing the ruins of destroyed trinkets that once held sentimental bargains.
    The mansion of anguish became a despondent residence engulfed in an eternal night.
    It stood as a forgotten memorial to love’s betrayal and decay, where beauty had endlessly perished, leaving only a ghostly vestige in its haunted place.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Shadows of the Eternal Night

    Shadows of the Eternal Night

    Shadows of the eternal night were hiding beyond the darkness,
    Veiled dreams coiling, drifting on winds so cold,
    Lost secrets tangled in webs of sorrowed stillness.

    The stars retired, their light consumed in a dimmed haze,
    Where spectres roamed through time-worn graves,
    And ancient oaths in hollow whispers praised.

    Each flower upon this hexed soil bore tales,
    Of souls long bound to sorrow’s endless plights,
    Where hope decayed, and love’s fair visage paled.

    Soft reveries became just faded vestiges,
    And scepticism obliterated every dream and desire,
    In a realm of brutality where beauty and magnificence were replaced by platitude.

    Beneath the nocturnal veil where promise hovered,
    Resided the sighs of anguish, drawn and lost,
    In silent mourning, under a moonless sky.

    Forgotten rhymes drifted like autumn leaves,
    Their faint sorrows lingered in the void,
    Bound by fate, in nights that never cleaved.

    Ghostly guises disclosed tales upon the mist,
    Of fragile lives now tethered to regret,
    In shadows ruling ominously whenever light and passions desisted.

    Ancient idols crumbled, haunted by decay,
    Their marbled stares held secrets left untold,
    A vigil kept for dawn that slipped away.

    The wind lamented in hollow, cadenced tones,
    Its chilling gusts were a requiem for hope,
    Where life withdrew, and death in darkness honed.

    The trees, with their dreary branches gnarled and bare,
    They were sentinels cast in the eerie twilight gloom,
    Witnesses to pain none could ever repair.

    Beneath the roots weaved webs of betrayal,
    Embracing misery, sealing completely dead vows,
    In earth-bound glooms, cursed and locked within.

    Each stone was engraved with words no vernacular may utter,
    A silent litany for spirits confined,
    By time’s cruel decree, eternally they sought.

    Shadows of the eternal night lingered, ruling among ruins and mournings,
    Where all was torn from life and love,
    And nothing remained bound to light or worlds unseen.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Storm of Chaos

    The Storm of Chaos

    The storm of chaos and madness descended upon the world,
    Invisible and silent, its dangerous spell was cast,
    Like a doom of destruction and death,
    Its waves were made of hatred and despondency.

    Lost dreams in the emptiness,
    Were but ephemeral instants of joyful illusions,
    While the storm of chaos obliterated everything,
    No refuge was left for the uncautious dreamers,
    In a realm where even to dream was not conceivable anymore.

    Sorrowful angst and sadness grew like thorns,
    Among the silent stares of faint stars,
    A distant echo of lamentation whispered through the void,
    The mournful song of a world torn asunder,
    Beneath the weight of shadows, it could no longer bear.

    The sky, once alive with hope,
    Became a canvas of forsaken memories,
    Its immensity was an infinite depiction of dismay,
    Where every fleeting desire was drowned in despair.

    Mountains crumbled under the touch of a cruel spell,
    Turning to dust, like brittle crystal gems of forgotten epochs,
    The rivers dried, their waters devoured by the storm,
    Leaving behind barren wastelands, void of life and love.

    The wind, no longer a sweet embrace,
    Howled like a ghoul unleashed from the abyss,
    Carrying with it the sorrow of a thousand spirits,
    Condemned to wander in the darkness, forever lost.

    No sanctuary dwelled in this realm of devastation,
    Where yearning was an ephemeral ghost,
    And elation had long been exiled.
    Every corner was mesmerised by the storm’s fury,
    Even time itself began to erode,
    Shattered like a fragile mirror of a lost past.

    In the silence that followed the storm’s chaotic gusts,
    There lingered only the vestiges of magnificence and beauty,
    Wailing in vain for a deliverance that would never arrive,
    And still, none would respond, for the entire world had become insensitive,
    To the sound of frantic dreams and desires.

    There was no more dawn nor light,
    But only the dim glare of the dying stars,
    Whose feeble devotion faded into the cold grip of eternity.
    Indeed, the luminaries above dimmed and faded,
    As if they, too, could not bear to witness the obliteration below.

    The earth lamented beneath the weight of its sorrow,
    Cracked and scarred by the storm’s relentless clasp,
    An ethereal veil of despair threads through its very essence.
    Nothing remained pristine; nothing survived unscathed,
    Since the storm of chaos had devoured all it had struck,
    Leaving a hollow shell where once life had thrived.

    And as the last fragment of reality disappeared,
    A stillness, more profound than any before, descended,
    Wrapping the world in its frigid grasp,
    As the storm, pleased, at last withdrew,
    Leaving behind only emptiness and the eternal night.

    In this abyss of forgotten longings and shattered dreams,
    No tears were left to whine,
    Because the storm had annihilated everything,
    Its wrath left nought but ashes and whispers on the wind.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Fragments of Pang

    Fragments of Pang

    Fragments of pang had been what remained after the storm of betrayal and deception,
    Having destroyed every hope and delight in the garden of dreams and desires.
    Beneath the silvered sky, where shadows twisted and writhed,
    The mournful wind sighed through the trees, whispering the names of the dead.

    Tears had fallen from broken statues, their faces frozen in an eternal lament,
    As vines of despair coiled around forgotten graves,
    And the moon had cast its pallid glow upon the crumbling walls of forgotten chapels,
    Where echoes of dismal laments lingered like ghosts in the mist.

    In that desolate place, where time itself had seemed to abandon its course,
    The air was replete with sorrow, heavy with undisclosed secrets.
    The raven had perched high above, its eyes reflecting a darkness deeper than the night,
    Watching with cold indifference as ghouls wandered aimlessly below.

    No solace had been found in that ruinous haven,
    Only the faint murmur of lost hope, swallowed by the abyss of time.
    The candles that once burned bright in the halls of joy had long since flickered out,
    Leaving only the void to claim what was left of a shattered heart.

    Amidst the ruins, a sculpture had stood cloaked in mourning,
    Its face hidden beneath a veil of grief,
    Waiting, always waiting, for the return of what was never meant to last.
    And so the night had stretched on, endless and unforgiving,
    As the world slowly forgot everything, what had remained within those walls were only fragments of pang.

    The ancient doors had creaked, their hinges rusted with centuries of neglect,
    Opening to a hall draped in shadow, where silence reigned supreme.
    Cobwebs had veiled forgotten portraits, faces blurred by time’s cruel hand,
    Their eyes had seemed to follow, scrutinising, though none were left to speak.

    Each stair step seemed to bend through the emptiness, a faint reminder of those who had tread there before,
    Doomed to wander, searching for deliverance in a place forsaken by light.
    The stained glass windows, splintered and dim, had wept colours long faded,
    Casting spectral hues on the cold stone floor like fragments of a shattered past.

    A faint susurration had dwelled in the hollow corridors—
    It did not belong anymore to any living entity but only to broken vows and wrecked promises.
    Words had been lost in the wind, although the pain had still lingered in that eerie domain,
    A haunting refrain of love betrayed, of hearts sundered by the cruel hand of fate.

    There, beneath the weight of centuries, the walls themselves had seemed to whimper,
    As if they remembered every misery that had passed within their embrace.
    The ceiling, a vault of darkness, had offered no stars to guide the lost,
    Only the oppressive heaviness of forgotten dreams trapped in endless night.

    Beyond the hall had lain a forgotten vault where stones and crystals had stood vigil,
    Like haunting faces turned heavenward in silent, mournful invocations.
    But no utopia had answered their plea; the sky above had remained as cold and indifferent
    As the graves, offering neither comfort nor release.

    There, the cold soil itself had seemed to breathe with ancient dread,
    A slow, shuddering sigh beneath the feet of those who had dared to tread.
    Gravestones had tilted and cracked, their inscriptions worn smooth by the passage of time,
    And, all those mortal names had been forgotten; their suffering had remained etched in the wind.

    Fragments of pang had wandered, lost among the tombstones and ruins,
    As solitary wraiths in a world of decay, bound to the pain of what once was.
    Since in that place, time had held no meaning, no mercy, only the endless march of despair,
    As the night had stretched on, unyielding, beneath the weight of a cruel and cynical fate.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Stalking Nightmares

    Stalking Nightmares

    Stalking nightmares wandered through the garden of wonders,
    Descending like a toxic fog over the meadows and flowers,
    They whispered sweet deceptions to those who dared to wander in dreams.

    Dark illusions were blossoming in the eternal night,
    Under a firmament devoid of luminaries and flames,
    The only enjoyment and delight was the horrid stare of fearless ghouls.

    The love for obsession became a tapestry of thorns,
    Feeding their roots with the blood of incautious dreamers and believers,
    As a game of subjugation of cruel torments with shining grins.

    Stalking nightmares deprived of life and future,
    As demonic vampires devoid of any righteous scruples and empathy,
    Striving to annihilate and destroy every blameless flower.

    Fading stars were just a jest and amusement,
    For those who were not aware of their sparkling lights,
    Ghosts who danced in shadows, lost in their plight.

    Every naivety lured by haunting whispers of dreams turned to ash,
    Each petal was a dagger, sharp with hidden secrets,
    Under the spell of a wicked gloominess, avid of dreams.

    Stalking nightmares, stubborn blooms breaking through the frigid soil,
    With roots entwined in enigmas of unrevealed arcane,
    In a conflict between shadows and flickers of dawn.

    In the abyss of dread, dark winds did howl,
    Swaying brittle stalks of nightmares, thin and foul,
    Beneath the moonless sky, there were plenty of threatening clouds.

    Tangled vines of dismay, tangled in despair,
    Stifling the seeds of hope and joy,
    While a storm of shadows thickened the languid air.

    Stalking nightmares revelled in their reign,
    Like ghouls with bared teeth and eyes of fire,
    Oblivious to the change beneath their feet.

    Their shadows were triumphant, blind to the garden’s cries,
    In the realm of forgotten souls crumbling into dust.
    In this twilight domain, where agonies convened,
    The garden pleaded in vain to turn nightmares into beauty.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Forbidden Pains

    Forbidden Pains

    Forbidden pains stirred in the depths of her soul,
    Unspoken whispers, shadows that stole
    Her every breath, her every cry,
    In the cold abyss where dreams go to die.
    She wandered through halls that none dared to tread,
    Where the air was thick with things unsaid.
    Ghosts of memories shattered and torn,
    Clung to the walls like a rose’s thorn.

    Her hands reached out to grasp what was lost,
    But time had ravaged at too high a cost.
    The weight of sins, unspoken and deep,
    Bound her in chains too heavy to keep.
    In every corner, her soul did strain,
    Against the shackle of forbidden pains.

    The windows, once bright with a hopeful light,
    Now mirrored only the eternal night.
    Her voice, a whisper drowned in the wind,
    Echoed the loss of all she’d have aligned.
    The halls grew tighter, the air grew thin,
    Trapped in a labyrinth of guilt and din.
    Her heart beat slow, her breath drew fast,
    A prisoner to memories that couldn’t last.

    She stumbled through visions of what could have been,
    Her reflection was a ghost on the glass so thin.
    Shattered pieces of who she once was
    Lay scattered in fragments, lost in the cause.
    Each step she took was a cry of despair,
    Forbidden pains whispered through the air.

    The portraits wept as she passed by,
    Eyes dark as the sorrow in the sky.
    The doors creaked open, but none let her flee,
    For her past had built the walls of this sea.
    No salvation in sight, no escape from the chains,
    Only the endless weight of forbidden pains.

    At last, she stood on the edge of her fate,
    A shadow waiting at the midnight gate.
    The stars blinked out one by one,
    As her soul unravelled, the thread undid.
    Forbidden pains, her eternal refrain,
    Echoed forever in sorrow’s domain.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Realm of Nightmares

    The Realm of Nightmares

    The realm of nightmares, beneath the cold and silver grin of the stars,
    Treading through passages of dread,
    Where shadows writhe, and walls grow thin,
    As whispers crawl from ear to head.

    The clock unmakes each moment’s tread,
    Time drips to dust and fades away,
    The voices of the ancient dead,
    Their chilling grins lead unfortunates astray.

    A sky of crimson, decadent with ash,
    Hangs heavy over this broken realm,
    The earth beneath begins to thrash,
    As claws reach up through cursed sand.

    Wandering through the realm of nightmares,
    Locked away in endless nights,
    Where every step, each haunted lair,
    Steeped in sorrow, drenched in fright.

    No solace here, no peace of mind,
    In this dark realm, the soul’s alone,
    Where horrors bloom grotesque, unkind,
    And terror sinks deep to the bone.

    A scream escapes, but silence reigns,
    A ghostly sound that’s never heard,
    While stars above ignite with flames,
    And burn away the final remark.

    With every moment, the walls collapse,
    The floor beneath bends and snaps,
    The realm of nightmares, vast and infinite,
    No start, no end—just shattered maps.

    The trees are twisted, black and bare,
    Their limbs reach out with claws of spite,
    From their breath, bitter winds ensnare,
    Extinguishing the newborn light.

    No dawn will come to end this storm,
    No morning’s grace to chase the gloom,
    For in the realm of nightmares, no light takes form,
    And shadows haunt each quiet room.

    Eyes burn like coals in masks grim,
    Their gaze, the deepest, darkest dread,
    And though they wear a thousand shrouds,
    Not one of them was indeed dead.

    They form from phantoms, born of fear,
    Each nightmare weaves from horror’s thread,
    Their breath, the wind; their voice sings clear,
    Of sleepless nights and waking dread.

    The ground below turns into clay,
    It pulls all down into its strand,
    Where darkness swallows the light of day,
    And reason cracks like brittle sand.

    Falling, falling—there is no end,
    No waking from this cursed blight,
    For in the realm of nightmares, the rules will bend,
    And all are trapped in endless nights.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

© Esther Racah 2025. All rights reserved.