The Silence of Oblivion
by Esther Elizabeth Racah
The silence of oblivion settled beneath the weight of eternal night,
Within the arch of time, echoes braided with sighs of lost centuries.
Candles flickered, their flames a spectral waltz,
Casting shadows on walls whose names had long crumbled to dust.
A tomb of fractured dreams, worn thin by years of oblivion,
Its stones whispered secrets of dust and decay.
Who rested within, sealed in the cold grip of stone,
Their story was entombed in the silence of oblivion.
The night sky sagged beneath the weight of unseen anguish,
Each breath of wind was a futile ripple in time’s endless sea.
The soil, smoothed by the silent tread of forgotten souls,
Held the faint imprints of lives now dissolved into shadows.
Candles stood vigil, their flames shivering,
Guardians of a fragile light in this forsaken hollow.
Yet even their glow faltered at the brink of the abyss,
Where darkness curled and clung to every forsaken crevice,
Enshrouded by the silence of oblivion.
Here, the silence was not merely the absence of sound;
It lingered, a living shadow,
Breathing in the cold, feeding on the stillness,
A keeper of stories never to be spoken,
Lost within the silence of oblivion.
The stone sarcophagus sat, weathered and hollowed by time,
Its inscriptions were worn to the edge of nothingness.
Once, it might have held grandeur, perhaps pride,
Now, it crumbled under the relentless weight of forgetfulness.
Who once lay revered here,
Now as forgotten as a pebble lost to the tide?
The world above had marched on,
But here, in the crypt’s eternal night,
Time had ceased,
And the dead dreamed in endless slumber.
And so, the tomb endured,
A monument to the inevitable fading of all things,
A testament to the silence of oblivion,
That devours even the most enduring echoes of life.
