Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: Lamentation

  • In My Fainted Dreams

    In My Fainted Dreams

    In my fainted dreams made of smoke and spells, I saw my image reflected in the mirror of death. It seemed as if I were a dead shadow made of illusions. My slumber bound me to chains of darkness, and I couldn’t escape from my dungeon of despair.

    In my non-existence, the quietness numbed me with a spell of sorrow. I was born to die alone, in scorn and desolation. My residence was made of teardrops and blood. I wished I could have kept my dreams in my treasure chest, but every time I tried, they would vanish.

    Hence, I began to pretend that I didn’t need to desire or dream. I could have achieved everything I wanted if only my fate could allow me to do it. Nevertheless, solace and bliss were forbidden castles to my decrepit presence, and I could only find myself in an endless requiem.

    Lies were birds of freedom for my heart, and I slumbered as a way of searching for myself. Indeed, I received an invitation from the realm of nothingness, under whose influence my main achievement was only destruction and decay. I was becoming a candle castle collapsing under the tension of an impetuous and merciless wind.

    My past memories were little daggers puncturing my heart incessantly without any compassion. Maybe it was all an endless nightmare conspiring against me but the vivid remembrances were slowly annihilating me each instant of my non-life.

    In my fainted dreams, I lived in grief surrounded by the shadows of my past self. I was not afraid to suffer and mourn days and nights. Time didn’t matter anymore because there was no metamorphosis in me. I perpetually wept like a statue in a cemetery.

    Death and nightmares were all that remained as gifts of the underworld. I surrendered to a quiet acceptance of my irreversible demise. I ceased to dream, embracing my everlasting lamentation. I was fading like incense through a sinister wind.
    Elisabetta

  • Laments in Oblivion

    Laments in Oblivion

    Laments in oblivion faded away like ephemeral tears,
    Becoming crystal gems caught in the night’s dark mirror,
    Where dreams lingered, fragile, on fleeting gusts of wind,
    And relinquished fragments of hope were bound to a silent death eternally.

    Darkness reigned over the realm of light;
    No eternal flame granted lasting life,
    While sorrow bled from noiseless abysses,
    Where forgotten hearts wept in silence and despair.

    The moon’s cruel glow was a mournful gaze,
    Illuminating all that was forsaken, lost in haze.
    Each tear became a star, each sigh a spark,
    Vanishing gently into the infinite dark.

    Spectres swung on a temporal precipice;
    Memories tarnished, turned into mere dusted rhymes.
    Radiant longings became dimmed and pale,
    And, in the chasms of silence, unveiled their tales.

    Ethereal glares and gentle cries of dismay—
    They belonged to the realm of stupor.
    Laments in oblivion were the only vestiges that lasted when remembrances died,
    Tormenting dreams beneath the moonlit skies.

    Dark clouds moved sombre and ominous,
    Crossing skies that never encountered vexation.
    Wanderers hovered among the glooms,
    Guided by phantoms in slumber and reverie.

    Sorrow and delight entwined together,
    In a languor that let the desolate trees weep.
    Lovelorn, broken hearts, once blazing and bright,
    Danced their last waltz in the smothering night.

    Faint glimmers flickered and swiftly withdrew,
    As the night devoured, each spectral hue.
    Memories withered like extinguished flames,
    Leaving only the ash of forgotten names.

    The stars lay imprisoned within the abyss of nothingness,
    Bound by eternity’s sorrowful plight.
    Clinging to remnants of fading light,
    Such glimmers dissolved into shadows in a deathly sleep.

    Laments in oblivion were consumed by the night,
    Hidden in shadows, beyond all light.
    Gone to silence, lost to the night,
    Drifting softly from mortal sight.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • A Forlorn Lantern

    A Forlorn Lantern

    A forlorn lantern was enlightening the chasms of midnight,
    Swaying in desolate grace,
    Its flickering light, a spectral frolic,
    Guided the lost in a trance.

    Shadows stretched like ghostly tendrils,
    Across forsaken and haunted lands,
    Sighs of a forgotten past echoed through the night,
    Steadfast in the grip of eternal fright.

    The lantern’s glow was pale and wan,
    Its glimmers Illuminated a path long gone,
    Through mist and gloom, it led astray,
    Guiding dreams that would have lost their way.

    Its glass, shattered by time’s cruel jest,
    Reflected the sorrow of the restless anguish,
    In every flame, a story was hiding,
    Of hearts that once were amiable, now cold.

    In the silence, secrets hid,
    Beneath the lantern’s mournful sway,
    A flare for the cursed and lost,
    In the shadows of the past, they fade away.

    Beneath the crescent moon’s senseless stare,
    The forlorn lantern swung in the damp air,
    A solitary and magical lodestar,
    In the darkness, it did confide.

    Flickers and whispers of bygone dreams,
    Plagued the edges of moonlit streams,
    Where remnants of the long-departed lingered,
    In the glooms of the bygone days, they softly perished.

    An eternal vigil, a silent invocation,
    For those who wandered, lost and bare,
    The forlorn lantern’s light was the only compass,
    In the darkened abyss where shadows sough.

    On every eerie, timeless night,
    The forlorn lantern shone its glare,
    A spectral glow in profound shadiness,
    Guiding the lost who never rested.

    Tormenting echoes of a mournful elegy,
    The lantern’s light lasted all night long,
    Its rays, though faint, still mighty,
    To ward off the nighttime hour by hour.

    A vestige of sorrow’s plight,
    This forlorn lantern was an ethereal gaze,
    Its flame, a lamp for the bewildered,
    Burning through the night despite the strain.

    Each night, as clouds drew near,
    The lantern’s light cast out the fear,
    A solitary star in the infinite dusk,
    Its shine, a faint yet steadfast spark.

    No one knew from whence it came,
    This forlorn lantern, with its everlasting flame,
    But in its glow, the lost wayfarers found peace,
    A moment’s solace, a brief release.

    In the end, the darkness gave way,
    To dawn’s first light, the break of day,
    And the forlorn lantern, in twilight’s gust,
    Owned stories of life, love, and death.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

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