Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: Legacy

  • The Ghost of Death

    The Ghost of Death

    The ghost of death had lingered near,
    A shadow cast in whispered fear.
    In silent rooms where memories lay,
    It watched as life slipped slowly away.

    It moved like mist, so cold, so pale,
    Through empty halls, a mournful wail.
    With each breath, the living took in fright,
    Echoed through the deepening night.

    The ghost had beckoned with hollow eyes,
    Inviting souls to bid their goodbyes.
    A figure cloaked in sorrow’s shroud,
    It walked among the restless crowd.

    A desperate heart had sensed its call,
    Feeling the weight of the final fall.
    In darkened corners, whispers grew,
    Of destinies sealed, of fates, they knew.

    When face to face, the ghost did smile,
    An eerie calm that stretched a mile.
    No threat it posed, no anger burned,
    Just a quiet truth that must be learned.

    The ghost of death, in silence, spoke,
    Of lives once bright, now just a cloak.
    It showed the beauty in the decay,
    And how each end gave birth today.

    The final breath was not the end,
    But a turning point, a chance to mend.
    In acceptance, there lay a grace,
    As life transformed, it embraced its place.

    The ghost receded, its duty done,
    Leaving behind what must be spun.
    In the quiet, the living sighed,
    Knowing well, they’d never indeed died.

    For life’s a cycle, a gentle sweep,
    Where shadows linger but do not keep.
    And in that space where fears once crept,
    The ghost of death watched over and wept.

    In twilight’s grasp, where echoes fade,
    The ghost of death, a silent blade.
    It whispered softly of lives once bright,
    Of dreams lost to the endless night.

    However, within its gaze, a flicker shone,
    A reminder that love could not be gone.
    For every soul, though bound to part,
    Leaves a legacy within the heart.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Maelstrom of Lost Hopes

    The Maelstrom of Lost Hopes

    The maelstrom of lost hopes,
    A storm raged through the silent night,
    Swirling hopes into the maelstrom’s bite.
    Dreams, once vivid, were cast away,
    In a tempest that led hearts astray.

    The winds of change, harsh and cold,
    Tore apart what dreams once told.
    A vortex of despair spun tight,
    Drowning aspirations in the dead of night.

    Visions of a brighter dawn,
    Lost in the tempest, all but gone.
    Each gust, a reminder of the fall,
    Of hopes that shattered against the wall.

    In the heart of the storm, shadows danced,
    As every wish and dream was entranced.
    The maelstrom’s roar drowned out the cries,
    Of souls adrift beneath darkened skies.

    Fragments of hope scattered wide,
    Carried away by the storm’s fierce tide.
    Each hope a wisp, a fleeting flare,
    Lost in the tempest’s cruel snare.

    The storm’s fury showed no mercy,
    As dreams dissolved into a dark sea.
    The chaos spun with relentless might,
    Churning despair through the endless night.

    A calm eventually settled in,
    Leaving echoes of where hopes had been.
    The maelstrom’s legacy, a haunting sound,
    A reminder of the dreams that drowned.

    In the aftermath, a sombre view,
    Of aspirations lost and futures askew.
    The maelstrom’s wrath, a cruel jest,
    Left the heart with only the quest.

    In the wake of the tempest’s rage,
    Silent whispers filled the empty stage.
    Echoes of hope once bright and clear,
    Now faded to a distant, mournful cheer.

    The remnants of dreams, like ashes, fall,
    Drifting down from the storm’s cruel thrall.
    Yet within the ruins, a fragile light,
    Glimmers softly through the endless night.

    In the silence that follows the storm’s roar,
    A faint heartbeat, a whisper of yore.
    Though the maelstrom left its deep scar,
    The spirit seeks where lost hopes are.

    From the wreckage, a new dawn may rise,
    As dreams take flight to brighter skies.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah