Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: loss

  • Dead Dreams

    Dead Dreams

    Dead dreams haunted
    the hollow realm,
    where forgotten hopes withered
    beneath a sky
    of perpetual dusk.

    Once, this place had been
    crowded with life,
    with hope,
    with the vibrant pulse of chance.
    But those days were long gone,
    and now the only inhabitants
    were ghosts
    of forgotten desires.

    Regret lingered
    as sharp and suffocating as smoke,
    tainting everything
    it touched.

    Dead dreams lingered
    in the corners,
    hiding in the cracks of walls,
    in the dust that coated
    every room.

    The house was falling apart,
    its bones creaking
    under the strain of time.

    The windows were broken,
    the doors hanging loose
    on their hinges,
    and yet something remained—
    a presence, invisible,
    undeniable,
    watched from the shadows.

    Dead dreams whispered
    through the air,
    soft voices,
    insistent.

    They spoke
    of what could have been,
    of paths not taken,
    of futures lost.

    Their words wound
    through the halls,
    pulling deeper
    into the heart
    of decay.

    The walls seemed to close in,
    the rooms growing smaller,
    more suffocating.

    The air was thick with dust,
    with the weight
    of years.

    Dead dreams never indeed die;
    they fade,
    becoming one with shadows,
    with silence.

    The house would stand forever,
    a monument
    to what was lost,
    to what could never
    be reclaimed.

    In the end,
    it would claim all,
    just as it had claimed
    those who came before.

    There was no escape
    from the dead dreams.

    They lingered on
    long afterlife
    had left.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Delightful Anguish

    Delightful Anguish

    Delightful anguish hid behind a mask of twisted delight,
    A paradox that ensnared the heart,
    Casting a spell on those who attempted to escape the dismay,
    The pain, exquisite, wrapped around the spirit,
    Familiar yet haunting in its embrace,
    Filling the void with a tender sadness.

    Each moment of sorrow disguised in beauty,
    Where despair changed into torment,
    The gleaming mirth intertwined with grief,
    Crafting melodies that resonated in the void,
    A haunting hymn that played on repeat,
    A serenade of loss and longing intertwined.

    Faces appeared in fleeting visions,
    Their wicked grins shone bright and dimmed by time,
    In their presence was a savoured longing,
    Each memory became a bittersweet reminder,
    Of what was cherished and what slipped away,
    The delicate balance of joy and pain.

    In quiet moments, the weight of the past descended,
    A heavy curtain draped over the spirit,
    Each sigh was loaded with the scent of regret,
    A heady mixture of nostalgia and sorrow,
    Delightful anguish blossomed in the heart’s chamber,
    Nurtured by tears that fell like rain.

    Shadows danced along the gloomy walls,
    Revealing fragile scraps of emotion thriving in darkness,
    In this sanctuary of sorrow,
    Pain transformed into captivating masterworks,
    Allowing the heart to embrace its contradictions,
    Finding beauty in the ashes of despair.

    Eventually, delightful anguish lingered,
    A monument to the complexity of mortal emotions,
    A reminder that even in sorrow, beauty thrived,
    The prom continued, a timeless waltz,
    Of loss and longing, forever entwined,
    A bittersweet journey through the maze of the heart.

    Delightful anguish wove through each thought,
    Entwining past and present in a delicate embrace,
    Where memories shimmered like fleeting stars,
    Creating a tapestry of love and loss,
    Illuminating the shadows with soft light,
    A reminder that beauty flourished amidst sorrow.

    In the quiet, hope flickered like a candle,
    Embracing the fragility of existence,
    An echo of resilience, whispering softly,
    That even in darkness, love found a way,
    To mend the fractured soul, weaving grace.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Avid Rage

    Avid Rage

    Avid rage ignited the fire like an everlasting flame,
    Old betrayals resurfaced like phantoms,
    Faces once familiar twisted into enemies,
    Every whispered word, a dagger in the heart,
    The weight of unfairness crushed the spirit.

    In the depths of the night, anger roared,
    A tempest unleashed within the soul,
    It surged like a tidal wave, relentless,
    Crashing against the shores of reason,
    Each throbbing was a reminder of wounds unhealed.

    In the quietness, rage painted the walls,
    Bright strokes of fury marked the silence,
    Every flicker of light became a reminder,
    Of the darkness that brewed in the shadows,
    A bluster of voices echoed in the mind.

    Beneath the skin, a wild creature lay waiting,
    Coiled tight, ready to strike,
    With every heartbeat, the tension mounted,
    Breath quickened, fueled by resentment,
    The soul was a battlefield of longing and despair.

    Each encounter felt like a betrayal,
    A trust broken, shards scattered on the cold soil,
    Hope faded beneath the weight of anger,
    As happiness turned to bitter silence,
    And compassion crumbled to dust in the storm.

    The world appeared in shades of crimson,
    Passions ignited with every injustice faced,
    The heart, a furnace, churned and boiled,
    Eager to destroy all that stood in its way,
    Devouring peace, leaving only ashes.

    Although amidst the chaos, a flicker of longing emerged,
    Suspicion whispered through the haze,
    What lay beneath the seething rage?
    A sorrow deep-rooted in longing and loss,
    The ache for harmony, the fear of sequestration.

    Even when the rage began to wane,
    Replaced by the weight of unspoken pain,
    Underrated fury danced on the edge of a garden of bleeding roses,
    Transforming every soft glow into violent flames,
    A reminder of everlasting anger.

    As dawn broke, the tempest flourished,
    Leaving behind silent destruction,
    An inextinguishable blaze burning the void,
    Rising from the ashes of that avid rage,
    And embracing the darkness that swallowed the storm.

    Avid rage lingered like a spectre in the emptiness,
    Its echoes never faded, never entirely dimmed,
    A reminder of the chasms every spirit could reach,
    And the infinite journey that awaited beyond the everlasting and eternal flames,
    Just in that garden of bleeding roses.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Dead Desires

    Dead Desires

    Dead desires lingered like ghosts,
    Hovering over ruins of faded aspirations,
    The giggles of delight that once filled the air turned to despair,
    A reminder of desires that withered away,
    Like autumn leaves crumbling into dust,
    Beneath the weight of relentless time.

    In the stillness of forsaken dreams,
    Shadows swirled under the tree of hopes that once thrived,
    Weaving through remnants of a forgotten past,
    Each piece of yearning faded into the void,
    As the heart’s vibrant ache succumbed to silence,
    Lost in the echoes of what could have been.

    Days, once painted in vivid hues,
    Became shrouded in muted greys,
    Each moment became a cruel reminder,
    Of warmth that slipped through fingers,
    The chill of time’s cruel embrace
    Froze every hope into lifelessness.

    A single tear traced a path down a cheek,
    Carrying the burden of unfulfilled wishes,
    The heart, once a vessel of fervour,
    Now beat with a hollow rhythm,
    A metronome marking unachieved desires,
    Each tick resonated with loss.

    Dead desires drifted like fallen leaves,
    Words unspoken, deeply felt,
    In the stillness, they hung heavy,
    As the moon illuminated the decay of hope,
    Scattering dreams like ashes in the wind,
    Leaving only shadows of what had been.

    As twilight approached, the air grew colder,
    Each breath was a reminder of dreams abandoned,
    The heart ached for the fire it once held,
    Now, only embers remained,
    Smouldering in the corners of a darkened soul,
    A monument to the dead desires that lingered on.

    In the quiet corners of memory,
    The shadows whispered tales of longing,
    The paths not taken became a haunting refrain,
    As the heart learned to dwell in the silence,
    Embracing the sorrow that filled the void,
    Finding beauty in the ashes of dreams.

    Dead desires echoed through the aisles of time,
    A haunting melody of what might have been,
    Reverberating through the deepest depths of the abyss,
    And, in their sight, the heart understood,
    That within each ember lay a spark of hope,
    A reminder that even in loss, tragedy can unveil meaning.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Delving into the Darkness

    Delving into the Darkness

    Delving into the darkness, where shadows twist and writhe,
    A step beyond the threshold, a journey far from light.
    The whispers of the void grew louder, filled with grief,
    A world devoid of hope, where none could find relief.

    Once, there was a spark of life, a flame that dared to burn,
    But here, in this forgotten place, all flames refuse to return.
    The walls of night drew closer still, their cold embrace suffused,
    And in the pit of nothingness, my soul became unloosed.

    Delving into the darkness, the air turned full of dread,
    Each breath a hollow gasp, the weight of dreams long dead.
    The earth beneath my feet felt cold, a tomb of silent stone,
    The echoes of my footsteps—whispers of the unknown.

    No cries were left to utter, no tear to break the gloom,
    I merged with every shadow, a phantom of the vault.
    The ground no longer held me firm, nor the sky above my head,
    For in this void, I ceased to be—the living, now the dead.

    Delving into the darkness, all senses were soon lost,
    Time stretched into infinity at an unfathomable cost.
    The shell that once embraced my warmth was now cold, fragile, racked,
    The spirit that defined my being faded, lost, and sacked.

    A figure of a forgotten entity, I wandered through the shade,
    My name, my face, my history, all memories decayed.
    The world beyond had faded, its contours out of sight,
    And in this endless chasm, I vanished from the light.

    Delving into the darkness until there’s nothing more,
    A silhouette upon the void, unseen by any shore.
    I am the night, the silence, the fear within your chest,
    A remnant of a world erased, an eternal, restless guest.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • A Doomed Fate

    A Doomed Fate

    A doomed fate had long been sealed,
    A cruel truth that time revealed.
    Each step they took, each choice they made,
    Led them deeper into the shade.

    The stars above, so cold, so bright,
    Watched as they surrendered to the night.
    In every breath, in every sigh,
    They knew that soon they’d have to die.

    The night had deepened, thick with dread,
    A silent pull towards the dead.
    No whispers now, no gentle breeze,
    Only shadows through the trees.

    A doomed fate had followed close,
    Like shadows that refused to go.
    They wandered through the years in vain,
    Bound by chains, they could not break.

    They ran but found no place to hide,
    For doom followed them, ever at their side.
    The hour struck, the time was here,
    And with it came a wave of fear.

    They faced their fate with weary eyes,
    Knowing well, no one survives.
    A breath, a step, a final cry,
    As they laid down their will to die.

    A doomed fate had gripped their soul,
    No freedom left to make them whole.
    No matter how they fought or fled,
    The path led closer to the dead.

    The end was hasty; the night grew cold,
    The weight of fate was so tight, so bold.
    And when at last the dawn did break,
    It found a soul the night did take.

    And in the quiet, still and grey,
    A doomed fate carried them away.
    In the silence, fragments of despair
    Spoke of dreams that hung in the air.

    A doomed fate had been fulfilled,
    No fight remained, no heart to build.
    Their life, now lost, became a tale,
    Of shadows abyssal and winds that wail.

    Each moment stretched, a fragile thread,
    Binding them to the path of dread.
    And when the shadows whispered low,
    They understood what they must forego.

    For fate, once chosen, could not bend,
    A journey with no chance to mend.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • 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

  • Forbidden Pains

    Forbidden Pains

    Forbidden pains stirred in the depths of her soul,
    Unspoken whispers, shadows that stole
    Her every breath, her every cry,
    In the cold abyss where dreams go to die.
    She wandered through halls that none dared to tread,
    Where the air was thick with things unsaid.
    Ghosts of memories shattered and torn,
    Clung to the walls like a rose’s thorn.

    Her hands reached out to grasp what was lost,
    But time had ravaged at too high a cost.
    The weight of sins, unspoken and deep,
    Bound her in chains too heavy to keep.
    In every corner, her soul did strain,
    Against the shackle of forbidden pains.

    The windows, once bright with a hopeful light,
    Now mirrored only the eternal night.
    Her voice, a whisper drowned in the wind,
    Echoed the loss of all she’d have aligned.
    The halls grew tighter, the air grew thin,
    Trapped in a labyrinth of guilt and din.
    Her heart beat slow, her breath drew fast,
    A prisoner to memories that couldn’t last.

    She stumbled through visions of what could have been,
    Her reflection was a ghost on the glass so thin.
    Shattered pieces of who she once was
    Lay scattered in fragments, lost in the cause.
    Each step she took was a cry of despair,
    Forbidden pains whispered through the air.

    The portraits wept as she passed by,
    Eyes dark as the sorrow in the sky.
    The doors creaked open, but none let her flee,
    For her past had built the walls of this sea.
    No salvation in sight, no escape from the chains,
    Only the endless weight of forbidden pains.

    At last, she stood on the edge of her fate,
    A shadow waiting at the midnight gate.
    The stars blinked out one by one,
    As her soul unravelled, the thread undid.
    Forbidden pains, her eternal refrain,
    Echoed forever in sorrow’s domain.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • 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

  • Fragments of Regret

    Fragments of Regret

    Fragments of regret haunt the night,
    In shadows hideouts where spectres dwell,
    Where moonlight casts its mournful spell,
    There lies a realm of bitter grief,
    Where ghosts of bygone epochs find relief.

    The mazes of a haunted mind,
    With memories cruel, their chains entwined,
    Echo with a sorrowful moan,
    As regrets claim their spectral throne.

    Fragments of regret haunt the night,
    Through halls of mist and endless night,
    Where faded hopes lose all their light,
    The wraiths of fate left unmade,
    Drape heavily in spectral shade.

    Each fleeting hope and unspoken plea,
    Becomes a ghoul that hounds the free,
    A lament of moments lost in vain,
    Their hollow cries a ceaseless pain.

    In chambers draped with ashen gloom,
    Where lost ambitions meet their doom,
    The spectres dance in mournful grace,
    Their sorrow was etched upon their face.

    Fragments of regret haunt the night,
    The echo of a whispered choice,
    A silenced scream, a broken voice,
    Shackled to the past’s cruel jest,
    The ghosts of regret never rest.

    Beneath the pall of the moon’s embrace,
    Where shadows mock a vanished face,
    Regrets as ghosts, both cold and vile,
    Haunt the aisles of denial.

    In this forsaken, haunted place,
    Where time stands motionless, a grim embrace,
    The restless phantoms of regret
    Reveal a truth none can’t forget.

    Fragments of regret haunt the night,
    For in the realm of shadows profound,
    Where anguished souls and memories are bound,
    The weight of choices left undone
    It is a curse that haunts everyone.

    So, it needs to tread with care through this dark land,
    Where spectres weave their mournful strand,
    And face the ghosts of dreams untried,
    Lest wanderers will be lost where shadows bide.

    As echoes of regret persist,
    Their chilling grip is like phantom mist,
    They weave through memories, cruel and dire,
    Igniting in the heart a darkened fire.

    In every creak of the decaying wood,
    In the damp and disintegrating falsehood,
    Lies the lingering trace of those lost dreams,
    And the torment of silent screams.

    Fragments of regret haunt the night,
    Casting their shadows far and wide,
    Till the soul is lost in this eternal tide,
    Forever bound by chains unseen,
    Where regret’s cruel ghosts have always been.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

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