Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: lifeless

  • Blank Silence

    Blank Silence

    Blank silence filled the solitary mansion as if the very air had been stilled by unseen hands. The echoes of sighs, once alive and vibrant voices, were now long dead, leaving only an oppressive quiet that seeped into the walls. The moon outside cast a frost and pale glow through the decayed windows, but even its light seemed muted, as though it dared not bother the stillness.

    Blank silence ruled the ancient residence, its weight pressing down on every surface. There had been a time when happiness and dreams resounded there when the sound of life loaded the halls. Now, only shadows remained, creeping and crawling over the furniture, whispering secrets that no one could ever hear. The rhythmic sway of a pendulum clock once measured time, but even that had ceased. Time itself had frozen, trapped in the grip of this hollow stillness.

    Blank silence settled deep into those who wandered through the mansion, searching for something that could no longer be remembered. The wind stroked the faded wallpaper; dead leaves ran over dusty books and cracked mirrors. But nothing looked back. There were no reflections here, no memories to cling to—only the vast emptiness stretching on and on. Invisible steps were soundless, and a ghostly breath barely could become a whisper in the choking air.

    Blank silence consumed everything, swallowing the house and all within it. The portraits on the walls stared out with blank, lifeless eyes, and the furniture seemed to sag under the weight of years. No one could tell how long they had been wandering, how many nights they had spent drifting through these halls. Time had lost all meaning here. The silence was eternal, an endless void that had stripped away all sense of reality. There was no sound, no voice, no cry. Only the hollow echo of nothingness stretched out before those who dared to wander, promising no escape.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Withering Tree

    The Withering Tree

    The Withering Tree
    by Esther Elizabeth Racah

    The withering tree stood bare amidst the wood,
    Its branches once reached for skies long gone.
    Leaves had fallen where they proudly stood,
    Resilience faded with each new dawn.

    Its trunk was gnarled, scarred by time,
    Rooted deep in forsaken earth.
    It had struggled to grasp a fleeting rhyme
    Of seasons past and vanished mirth.

    Winter winds had howled through its limbs,
    Shaking loose the last of pride.
    Each gust was a reminder of forgotten hymns
    In the cold where warmth had died.

    Spring had brought no buds from its bark,
    No whispers of renewal’s grace.
    The withering tree remained stark in the dark,
    A witness to nature’s cruel embrace.

    Summer’s sun had bypassed its boughs,
    Casting shadows on its forlorn frame.
    While life thrived in neighbouring crowds,
    The tree had stood still, devoid of flame.

    Autumn had arrived, but no colours blazed—
    They had long since faded away.
    The withering tree had endured in a sombre daze,
    A symbol of endless, silent decay.

    The ground beneath it had cracked and dried,
    No rain to quench its thirsty roots.
    Silent beneath an empty sky,
    Where once it had borne green shoots.

    Each storm that passed had left no mark;
    Its branches swayed but never bent.
    The tree had remained a hollow arc,
    Its growth and life long spent.

    It stood as a sombre sight,
    A monument to forgotten days.
    Its vibrant leaves had lost their light,
    In a landscape shrouded by decay’s haze.

    As seasons changed and years went by,
    The tree became a ghostly shade.
    Its story whispered to the sky,
    In silence, where it slowly decayed.

    In the forest where it once reigned,
    The withering tree’s memory waned—
    A symbol of time’s relentless strain,
    Where life’s echoes had long been drained.

  • The Mirror of Despair

    The Mirror of Despair

    The mirror of despair stood like a monolith,
    A monolith, unmoved, defiant.
    Before that cursed glass, shadows loomed,
    And light would pass, leaving darkness consumed.

    Once it held the grace of life,
    Now, only hollow faces survived.
    The air grew poisonous, a burden to bear,
    A chill that whispered, don’t you dare.

    Cold breath hung in the air, a fleeting mist,
    A ghostly trace that once existed.
    The surface touched, cold as stone,
    Yet deeper still, a soul felt alone.

    The mirror of despair exhaled a sorrow so vast,
    Trapping a soul within the past.
    A scream clawed up, lodged in the throat,
    But all that came was silence’ coat.

    A voice was lost, like fading light,
    Consumed by dread, engulfed by night.
    The reflection showed not just a face,
    But every fear that none would trace.

    Youth decayed, bones turned brittle,
    Skin faded grey, and life became little.
    Colours drained from joy and life,
    Each moment was replaced by endless strife.

    The mirror of despair pulled deeper still,
    Into a world that froze all will.
    A heart, once whole, now torn apart,
    Reflected back in shards of dark.

    Each fragment whispered death’s embrace,
    No warmth, no light, no saving grace.
    Graves appeared, their earth undone,
    And in those pits lay the one.

    A figure frail, devoid of breath,
    Caught in the arms of endless death.
    Turning away was not allowed,
    Something held firm, no escape endowed.

    The pull of doom, a heavy chain,
    Bound this soul to eternal pain.
    The mirror’s depths revealed no end,
    Only endless dread, no hope to mend.

    Shadows closed in, all around,
    A suffocating, endless bond.
    The weight of death felt so near,
    Its breath was so cold, its touch so clear.

    It whispered low, in the ear so slow,
    That all was lost; no light could show.
    Cracks spread wide across the glass,
    Like spiders’ webs that grew en masse.

    Each line it split tore at the soul,
    A mirror now of death’s control.
    And there stood a figure, consumed by dread,
    A living soul among the dead.

    The mirror of despair held a final sigh,
    A grim reflection left to die.
    The hours blurred, the days bled dry,
    Lingering there, without knowing why.

    No future lay beyond the glass,
    Just shadows of a life that passed.
    Each breath became a hollow sound,
    A heart that barely dared to pound.

    Lingering there, devoid of air,
    In endless, hopeless, cold despair.
    No warmth could reach this haunted place,
    No hope could heal what’s been erased.

    A ghost within the glass remained,
    And death, it seemed, forever chained.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Gloomy Skies

    Gloomy Skies

    Gloomy skies and oceans of white
    I could never hear my dreams
    Still so lonely but not always alive
    My memories must be everywhere
    For the rain came upon me
    And all night was gone
    I was lost and now moved
    No hope on earth
    On my path, too many forms of dreams appeared
    As the most divine knowledge

    Gloomy skies were phoney and shady
    The sun was hot and grey
    With its silver hues that fly high
    I could not hear my voice all around me, like in a memory
    A thoughtful life’s beauty should now come
    Gone forever as life departs
    The sky was long and sad
    Winter morning dew and clouds
    Massive waves for a new day
    Specks of snow were all around

    Gloomy skies have fallen apart
    Clouds bloomed to ascend
    The wind left behind one of the branches of a hollow tree
    My heart kept moving fast with no sweet delight
    A small flower was pierced by a pale morning
    A shade came in haste
    I could see the dimness of the day
    My dread had disappeared like an ordinary river
    Falling into the clouds, I was gone
    And there was no time to be silent in the shadow

    Gloomy skies were hidden behind a blaze
    Tears became sweet like myrtle
    A dark and dreary day has trapped me
    The clouds were so thick and heavy
    It felt like they were suffocating the world below
    I couldn’t help but feel a sense of sorrow
    Everything looked dull and lifeless
    As the world had been drained of all its colour
    The rain continued to fall, and the clouds slowly began to break apart
    I felt a sense of longing and a shrug of resignation

    Gloomy skies falling like raindrops
    The rain made everything glisten and sparkle
    The sound of the drops smashed the soil
    And everything seemed to slow down
    Despite the darkness and the sadness
    I took a moment to pause and reflect, to gather my strengths for brighter days ahead
    The gloomy skies reminded me that even in the darkest of times
    There is always a glimmer of light waiting to shine through a forgotten dream
    The very memories run when not everything has become a fair and loving thought
    And the fear of happiness remains as some divine benefit flies away.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • A Buried Star

    A Buried Star

    A Buried Star

    A buried star lies in the garden of a soul
    Lifeless and ashen
    Motionless like a stainless steel sculpture
    Cold like a dark wintertime evening
    When the snow swirls chaotically
    Whilst the frosty wind wraps the night darkness
    A labyrinth of obscurity protects the buried star
    A ferocious silence prevents any sound from waking the star
    A star submerged in the quiet of an eternal torpor
    No light is allowed to penetrate the secret garden
    The lethal inertia of a lifeless star
    Never being allowed to shine brightly
    Trapped by fears and nightmares
    Too fragile to hold on to the firmament
    A concealed star lying in a pit of anguish and darkness
    Not even a bashful glow could be discernible from afar.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

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