Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: ignorance

  • Infinite Stairs Of Waiting

    Infinite Stairs Of Waiting

    Infinite stairs of waiting
    The more I wait, the more I feel trapped in the dungeon of anguish.
    The more I climbed the stairs, the more I tried to ascend,
    the more it seemed I was descending downward with no result.
    All of this made me frustrated
    because I could not reach my goal.

    In my stillness I found myself,
    But at the same time, I lost a part of me.
    It was as if everything I had learned
    I had lost and forgotten,
    and everything I did not know
    I had unconsciously acquired.

    Confused and bewildered in a place of nowhere
    I strived to believe in my dreams but all I could do was fall from the stairs

    It was a game of illusion and reality.
    I had ceased to discern what seemed deception from what was truth.
    Both had blended together.
    It was as if there were no longer any meaning,
    and no longer any need to possess the domain of wisdom and knowledge.
    Everything had shattered into the abyss of ignorance and madness.

    And I proceeded on a thin thread between creation and destruction.
    My perplexities and hopes echoed as if they resounded through enigmatic structures, without meaning and expectations.

    Spirits that I could not discern, that I could not distinguish, whispered to me encouragements to pursue. But every time I fell and plunged into another flight of stairs, they laughed, almost as if to make fun of me — and to mock my inexperience and incompetence.

    In solitude I found myself lost, and there I languished like a creature from other worlds, indulging in my languor and melancholy; I was certain that I was towards myself and my image no longer had reflections in any mirror. The staircase was truly infinite like a steep ascent without end; there was neither a beginning nor an end, everything was an infinite perpetuity of distress and anguish.

    Infinite stairs of waiting were my dwelling for eternity, and there I had to… to… I didn’t know anymore.
    Elisabetta

  • The Silent Sacrifice

    The Silent Sacrifice

    The silent sacrifice, where shadows twisted and leered,
    A gate once opened wide, was now rusted with fear.
    Each thought, a fading echo lost in hollow cries,
    Smothered beneath the weight of ghostly, vacant eyes.

    Where souls once burned with fire, bold and bright,
    Now hollow figures drifted, swallowed by the night.
    The spirit was torn, like whispers in the wind,
    The mind was erased, and darkness slowly grinned.

    The path of silence was tread with heads bowed low,
    Beneath a sky where nameless terrors grew.
    Chained by ignorance, shuffling, cold and blind,
    Praising the curse that poisoned every mind.

    The brave were buried in the dust of old,
    Their cries were drowned out by voices shrill and cold.
    Hatred, now a king, wore shadows like a crown,
    Its reign of terror pulled all down.

    The silent sacrifice, where minds were cast aside,
    By hands unseen, dragged to the depths to hide.
    Shunning the light that once pierced through the veil,
    Wandering lost in nightmares, pale and frail.

    No longer did the flame of thought remain,
    For in its place, a spectre gripped the chain.
    Kneeling before the lies that clawed the sky,
    Watching as reason’s flicker slowly died.

    In lands where shadows choked the very air,
    What use was thought? The soul lay stripped and bare.
    The heart was but a phantom, cold and still,
    As darkness whispered, bending to its will.

    Ignorance reigned, hatred wove its web,
    Those who were thought were dragged among the dead.
    Since, in the end, the self had faded away,
    As shadows rose to claim their endless prey.

    Thus died the self, the silent sacrifice,
    In ignorance, the final price was paid.
    Hatred ruled where light no longer dared to tread,
    And the living soul was numbered with the dead.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Unopened Pages

    Unopened Pages

    Beyond the cover, realms await, unseen,
    In every book, a path to what has been.
    However, here prejudice stands, with its labels in the hands,
    Dismissing truths, it barely understands.

    The minds that bind themselves with endless chains,
    Are deaf to stories’ wisdom and knowledge gained.
    They close the book before it’s fully read,
    Content with titles, names, and what’s been said.

    But truth defies the cages they create,
    It bends beyond the lines that separate.
    For every story written holds a key,
    To unlock hearts and set the spirit free.

    To judge an essence by labels is to miss
    The depth of life, the beauty in the abyss.
    The page that holds the answers lies untorn,
    Nevertheless, senses stay closed, and ignorance is born.

    Beneath the ink, shadows twist and creep,
    Murmurs from forgotten worlds sleep.
    The words, like phantoms, haunt each line,
    Begging to be freed from the threads of time.

    More than the surface, deeper should they dive,
    For in those words, the most trustworthy self survives.
    The books unopened hold a thousand skies,
    And in their pages, prejudice defies.

    The label shouldn’t blind crowds from the tale,
    For in the written word, all hearts prevail.
    To open books is more than just a task,
    It frees the soul from every mask.

    And as the pages crackle in the night,
    A ghostly hand beckons toward the light.
    No thought confined, no mortal boxed away,
    For every story lives beyond the fray.
    The truth of existence cannot be simply named,
    It’s written comprehensively, with words that can’t be tamed.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Infinite Darkness

    The Infinite Darkness

    The infinite darkness lay within each dream,
    Exquisitely bounding everything in the void,
    Fair enough to reveal secrets and arcana of realms that never existed,
    In the presence of the absolute silence of stars and luminaries.

    The infinite darkness betrayed dreams and nightmares,
    In their foolishness and ignorance,
    Like a tide rising from an unknown moonless sky,
    A silver and purple firmament whole of unlimited fantasies.

    Soundless clouds of dust and light were ignominious omens,
    Betraying delusional dreams and untamed emotions,
    Speculations of innocence and death similarly doomed wishes,
    Shrouded in the mist of uncertainty and regret.

    Blue glimmers of occult fantasies hid beneath illusionary visions of a blurred realm,
    Granted to infinite and limitless imaginations,
    Without questions or answers in the absurdity of the universe,
    Interruption of every beauty and sublimity.

    In the silence of stars’ eternal gleam,
    Shadowed longings of forgotten aspirations beckoned,
    Where phantoms of memories and forgotten desires entwined,
    Draped in the spectral light of a desolate eternity.

    Each whispered secrets with echoes of timeless despair,
    Lingering in the hollowed expanse of a cosmic night,
    Concealing the truth in a veil of endless stars,
    Crafting tales of sorrow, anguish, and eternal despair.

    Within the abyss of this boundless void,
    Ancient spirits weaved their silent magic tales,
    Bounded by threads of sadness and ephemeral delight,
    In the everlasting trance of the infinite dark.

    Unseen delights guided the ethereal blisses,
    Through realms where dreams and reality collided,
    Where every shadow held a promise and every light a lie,
    In the uncharted expanse of the deepest fears and desires.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Without Darkness

    Without Darkness

    Without Darkness

    Without darkness, there wouldn’t be light
    Without sadness, there wouldn’t be happiness
    The myth of false positivity and happiness at any cost
    It is just a hypocritical way to betray the honesty of the mind
    Just like a good filler makeover and a fake smile
    This life became a tragicomedy where real people act like ridiculous clowns

    Nowadays, everything is so fictitious
    Nowadays, everything is so falsely bright
    The philosophy of being happy and embrace the light
    It’s the new propaganda to conceal all the fears and problems
    The main is to be a shallow mentor, showing off and impressing
    It is just a blind society where there is no way to avoid rooted ignorance.
    Esther Racah

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