Tag: memory

  • Somewhere In My Dreams

    Somewhere In My Dreams

    Somewhere in my dreams, random thoughts enveloped my mind, and the bitter memories of what I have lost—of my buried treasures—saddened my heart.

    It was as if I had surrendered myself to my own steps, walking down an avenue lined with dead trees, and with closed eyes I had defied the wind, which whispered to me words and secrets I no longer remember.

    Weighted down by my anguish, I could not see a glimmer of light, of hope, that might guide me in a clear and lucid direction. All I could find was only chaos and fear—a dread that tormented me, the fear of never being able to grasp my dreams, of never being able to enclose them within the cage of my heart.

    As much as I longed to cling to life, to my plans and dreams, their manifestations fell into the abyss of emptiness—an abyss that sought to swallow me into its chasm.

    And I remembered all the principles that had been taught to me, shaped like a golden cage in which I was made to live my entire life—bound by rigid conventions, dark as chains coiled around my ankles and wrists, suffocating me like sly ivy twisting about my neck, its soft and slender leaves wrapping my face in a silent, silken strangle.

    No, absolutely not. Stupidity has never belonged to me, nor hypocrisy, nor superficiality. And yet, I have always stood beyond an invisible wall—between myself and other mortals, who have always found me unusual, strange, even impossible to define within their social and mental structures.

    Excessively extreme in my obsessions, in my feelings, in my passions and in my visions. I have always been—and still am—a visionary, a dreamer at the mercy of events that have never truly belonged to me, for even now I find their traces in the vault of my past, like fragments of memories scattered across the sky above my head.

    Somewhere in my dreams, I’ve got lost in the labyrinth of reveries, trying to find myself—but in vain, for, in truth, I have never known myself, and I have never found who I truly am. I have always lived with the illusion of knowing, the illusion that others spoke the truth to me—as if their words were pearls of wisdom, as if they could guide me.

    But in the end, what I found was only an illusion. Only betrayal. My heart has been permanently defiled by the torments of mortals and by the shadowy mirages that have always hindered my path.
    Lisa

  • The Candlelit Gallery Of Statues

    The Candlelit Gallery Of Statues

    The candlelit gallery of statues
    Where the statues remember me
    Amid the silence of their whispers
    While I wandered aimlessly around them
    And my imagination conducted me through the labyrinth of my desires
    My heart craved for beauty and arts
    And I left the mortal world to embrace the realm of my secret dreams

    I became what I had imagined
    I had no shape
    I had no limitations
    I was a spirit invisible to every stare
    With the certitude of my fragility
    I was aware that every step of mine became an invisible fragment of memory
    Sadness didn’t have any power over me
    And regretful memories were just ephemeral visions

    Time seemed to lose power
    And I was acquainted that my existence was not bound to time
    No chain linked my soul
    Indeed I was boundless as a wild bird flying in the sky

    The candlelit gallery of statues had become my eternal dwelling
    Where I could linger wearing my gown of distress and grief
    And fill every chamber with my tears of death.
    Lisa

  • Endless Despair

    Endless Despair

    Endless despair gripped my heart
    Piercing it with swords and daggers
    Fracturing the path I was walking
    Each step was a struggle against the poundage of my grief and sorrow

    The sky above me was now a dark and endless void
    Where the sun had long since surrendered its passion
    Leaving only the cold embrace of night
    A reminder of obliteration and demise

    Shattered fragments of dreams clung to my soul
    Their edges were sharp and slashed my heart
    Memories of bliss dissolved like smoke
    Vanishing before I could hold them

    I reached for something but nothing remained
    Indeed, my hands met only the emptiness
    A nothingness that mocked every effort of mine
    A silence that devoured my voice

    In the depths of this abyss
    I wondered if escape was even possible
    But I became aware that I was doomed to wander this desolation endlessly
    Forever lost and eternally broken

    Endless despair destroyed my heart
    Crushing it to ashes that the wind scattered into the emptiness
    I sought solace in oblivion’s embrace
    A cold grip that seemed to release me

    Each moment of stillness only exacerbated my misery
    Since even the quietness was full of screams and outcries
    No glimmer of light teased the edges of my sight
    Every beauty and hope vanished as quickly as it appeared in my imagination

    I was left with nothing but a bitter taste of what I could never acquire
    The hours crawled like chains across my heart
    Each tick was a reminder of all I could never reclaim
    The past and the future were both my dungeons of distress

    I remained trapped in a perpetual desperation
    I felt myself dissolving into the night
    As the ghouls of this realm were obliterating what little remained of me
    And I became nothing

    A sigh lost to the wind
    I didn’t know what I was anymore
    I felt forgotten and my spirit was broken
    Relinquished among the shadows of the dead.
    Elisabetta

  • Claustrophobic Thoughts

    Claustrophobic Thoughts

    Claustrophobic thoughts on solitude and self-love
    Duty was the master of my obsessions
    Although I was travelling in an unreachable remote realm
    Where I was not aware that I could have dreamed

    The surprise of being a part of the time and eternity
    But as an invisible and ethereal creature of darkness
    Longing I could manifest all the desires of mine
    Faraway from ambiguous wicked beings

    Enticed by my love and desire for my untouchable beloved
    Who perceived but ignored my passion for him
    Hence, frustration and impossibility separated me
    Keeping me awake at night and a dreamer in the middle of the day

    Whenever I could have the chance to meet him
    I would rejoice in his vision and sometimes voice
    Striving to obtain some quick and volatile attention
    For just a few instants that sounded like an eternity

    Silence and loneliness waited for me
    In every corner of my mind
    Whenever my hope could have been fulfilled
    In my naive dreams

    Waiting was the only option
    Even forever
    As long as I could be there not far from him
    With my heart

    Dreams and illusions are my merriment
    Like a multicoloured lamp enlightening sleepless nights
    While my claustrophobic thoughts trapped my mind
    In a vortex

    Letting the river of life captivate me
    I float like a leaf on the cold waters of fate
    When uncertainty is the ruler of the realm
    Echoing my name

    Words like carved truths on my soul
    Conducting me to my unknown destination
    I become words
    I become memories

    Vanishing in the void
    All that remains of me are my fears and longings
    Cling to my love
    Burning like an inextinguishable flame
    Pure like the blossom of a crimson rose.
    Elisabetta

  • I Lived In Death

    I Lived In Death

    I lived in death, and the death lived in me
    As long as memories were within me
    As long as I relied on my dungeon of darkness and dismay
    The daggers of betrayal stabbed my heart and soul
    Numbing my mind in an eternal slumber for a decade of decay

    Foolishness was my wisdom and guide
    For I forgot my name at a time without the time
    In the eternity of forgetfulness of myself
    Living forcefully without the intention of life
    Doomed to solitude, numbness and death

    And so I wrote my despair and desire for not being any more
    Prisoner of fate and false scenarios
    I pretended to live believing in other truths and myths
    A spell of death and violence was written on my heart
    Still not free from the cage of demise and darkness.

    I lived in death, and the death lived in me
    Trusting the undying spirits of deception
    Captivating my heart and soul like vultures
    Avid of my mystery and innocence
    Having been thrown into a cave with no way out

    Slumber was my only loyal companion in my non-life
    Slammed doors and broken windows and screams the constant guests of my trap
    Explosions and metal dust were falling over my realm of nightmares
    Dreaming of not dreaming anymore forever

    Falling into unloveable harbours of uncertainty
    Being unintentional and detached in my survival
    Nonchalant about the future as I was destined to vanish
    Secrets and memories were pinning me down like a fallen butterfly

    I lived in madness
    Pretending to exist in a phantom reality
    Striving to scream but without success
    I’ve been an embalmed doll, trapped in a glass cage
    Untouched by love.

    My heart and lips have been sealed
    By the pins of sovereignty and hegemony
    Waiting to be forever free I feast upon myself.
    Elisabetta

  • Desolation and Sadness

    Desolation and Sadness

    Desolation and sadness blossomed in a time when the tree of joy died,
    Before, the winds turned cold and cruel.
    The days were bright, but shadows prospered,
    And silence ruled in every room.

    The flowers once bloomed in glimmering lights,
    Their petals soft, their fragrance sweet,
    But seasons shifted, and they withered,
    As if the soil no longer cared to greet.

    The sky had held a shade of blue,
    A canvas where the clouds would play,
    But soon, it faded into grey,
    As mirth dissolved and dreams decayed.

    There had been a symphony of fondness in every glimmer,
    And love’s embrace was powerful and infallible.
    But hearts grew detached, hands untied,
    Leaving behind an obscure emptiness.

    The roads once bustled with busy steps,
    Crammed with the hum of life’s embrace.
    Now, only memories passed through walls,
    And loneliness had found its realm.

    The ocean once danced beneath the sun,
    Its waves created a melody of endless bliss.
    But now the shores stood bare and cold,
    Untouched by light, untouched by ardour.

    There was a time when longings were alive,
    Their sounds were so pure, their wings so light,
    Nonetheless, soon, their melodies went lost in the darkness,
    Swept away by endless nights.

    The stars had shone like scattered gems,
    Guiding the way through life’s enigmas,
    However, shortly, their light was swallowed whole,
    By darkened skies, their lustre was gone.

    Those who once believed in futures bright,
    With paths that led to beautiful shores.
    They became tired of those dreams that were left lying in the dust,
    Forgotten tales of what once soared.

    There had been smiles and giggles,
    Faded promises of days to arrive.
    But sorrow settled in their place,
    And every gust felt cold and numb.

    The past was filled with tender grace,
    A world untouched by grief’s decay.
    But time moved on, and all that was loved
    It was swept like ash and blown away.

    Desolation and sadness claimed the fields of green,
    Where no more hearts alive could have been chased,
    Indeed, now those fields lay barren, bare,
    Where joy had existed, now misery took its siege.

    The wind that brought hymns of happiness
    Suddenly, it only carried the weight of tears.
    The songs of delight and love
    Fell silent through the passing years.

    There was a remote and ancient time,
    When kindness bloomed like a springtime flower,
    But cruelty’s frost had killed the bloom,
    And shadows stretched with thriving power.

    The sun that warmed every realm
    Fell from the sky in silent grief,
    And all that once was full of life
    Fell prey to time’s relentless thief.

    In the end, only desolation and sadness lingered here,
    Of all things that went lost, of all those dreams that were known.
    Desolation ruled the land,
    And sadness bloomed where hope once grew.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Crumbled Castle of Lost Expectations

    The Crumbled Castle of Lost Expectations

    The crumbled castle of lost expectations stood in ruins beneath an indifferent sky,
    Its arches bent, its towers broken,
    Its promises faded away too soon.

    Winds howled through the hollowed halls,
    Where once the fate bright had shone.
    Dreams drifted like the autumn leaves,
    Long dead but never entirely gone.

    Shattered windows framed the sky,
    Where hope once rose but now fell fast.
    The crumbled castle of lost expectations
    Watched as time dragged out the past.

    Its walls had held such hopes and dreams,
    But those were buried deep in stone.
    Each vow, each word, each fleeting thought,
    Eroded by time, cold and alone.

    Forgotten by the world outside,
    Its gates, once open, were now closed tight.
    A monument to loss and grief,
    It drowned in the depth of endless night.

    The crumbled castle of lost expectations was a haven once,
    But like all things, it too decayed,
    Its walls were too frail to endlessly endure.

    There were relics and memories from years gone by,
    But now they were just ghosts in the air.
    Colours and glimmers, faint, like shadows passed,
    Through corridors that lead nowhere.

    A kingdom built on fragile hope,
    Now overtaken by despair.
    Every dream that once gleamed radiant now lay broken,
    Scattered everywhere.

    Vines crept over forgotten doors,
    Their tendrils strangled what remained,
    And ivy choked the marble floors,
    In time’s indifferent, endless chains.

    The crumbled castle of lost expectations witnessed the love that turned to dust.
    No joy remained, no delight, no glow,
    Only fragments of misplaced trust.

    Each stone, once laid with tender hands,
    Now crumbles under sorrow’s poundage.
    The days grew long, the nights grew cold,
    And silence sealed its final fate.

    A tower, once monumental, collapsed in pain,
    Its windows were ravaged, stained with tears.
    It fell not with a roar or cry,
    But with a whisper through the years.

    The shattered castle of forsaken dreams stood now as a tomb to all that was gone,
    A hollow relic of dreams once lustrous,
    And lives that flickered out at dawn.

    No sun will rise, no dawn will break,
    No voices will call out its name.
    Only the wind will mourn its fate,
    And time will erase its fleeting flame.

    A silent ghost whose memories were too faint to be kept.
    The crumbled castle of lost expectations fell to dust and ceased to exist.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Unusual Loneliness

    Unusual Loneliness

    Unusual loneliness, like a trap of despair,
    In the silent hollow profundities of melancholy,
    Like waiting for nothing.

    Solitude was a tree in a landscape in black and white,
    Where no bird was seen flying in a cloudy sky,
    With no sun, no stars.

    Gardens of withered flowers, suddenly dead,
    We were cloaked by a cold darkness,
    While the wind silently touched every dead leaf.

    Obsessions and sweet anguishes were the only companions of dreamers,
    Daring to challenge the infinite abyss of darkness,
    In the absence of any comfort and solace.

    The ocean mirrored a void that swallowed the horizon,
    Its waves whispered secrets to no one—
    Each crest fell into oblivion,
    A rhythmic pulse, echoing an empty heart.

    Unusual loneliness became a captivating spell,
    In front of the infinite ocean, unifying with a cloudless sky,
    Neither sunrise nor sunset are allowed to rule.

    Indeed, in the chasm of this desolation,
    There was no cry, no scream to break the spell,
    Only the slow, measured breathing of a realm too tired to weep.

    Beneath the surface, creatures swam in circles,
    Trapped like thoughts repeating,
    Chasing themselves endlessly.

    Until the silence became unbearable,
    Shadows whispered in the void,
    And even the depths withheld their embrace.

    Solitude was a tree in a landscape in black and white,
    Where no bird was seen flying in a cloudy sky,
    With no sun, no stars.

    Unusual loneliness, like a trap of despair,
    In the silent hollow profundities of melancholy,
    Like waiting for nothing.

    Gardens of withered flowers, suddenly dead,
    We were cloaked by a cold darkness,
    While the wind silently touched every dead leaf.

    Obsessions and sweet anguishes were the only companions of dreamers,
    Daring to challenge the infinite abyss of darkness,
    In the absence of any comfort and solace.

    The ocean mirrored a void that swallowed the horizon,
    Its waves whispered secrets to no one—
    Each crest fell into oblivion.

    In the chasm of this desolation, there was no cry,
    No scream to break the spell could be heard,
    Only the slow, measured signing of a realm too tired to weep.

    Unusual loneliness was a strong ruler,
    No fool, no wise could escape its lure,
    In a kingdom of silence, vast and infinite.

    Beneath the surface of the sea, creatures swam in circles,
    Trapped like thoughts repeating,
    Chasing themselves endlessly.

    Until the silence became unbearable,
    And even the depths withheld their embrace,
    Since the darkness was too vast for escape.

    The mountains, once mighty and towering, now seemed worn and hollow,
    Their peaks were erased by time,
    As if they, too, were succumbing to despair.

    Each stone whispered tales of forgotten triumphs,
    Now, only memories lost to the winds of neglect,
    Fading into the silence.

    Unusual loneliness crept like a mist,
    Cold branches wrapping in a deadly twist,
    A silent grip no soul could resist.

    The sky, stretching endlessly, refused to colour the world beneath it.
    It held no promises, no passions,
    Just a blanket of monotonous grey.

    Even the rain, if it dared to fall, would weep in silence.
    There was no place untouched by the chill of loneliness—
    A world where sorrow reigned supreme.

    Every corner, every shadow, echoed the same quiet devastation,
    A symphony composed not of music but of absence,
    Playing to an empty audience.

    Even time itself seemed to crawl, hesitating with each tick,
    As though unsure if it should even continue,
    Caught in its own web of doubts.

    Unusual loneliness haunted the world,
    A wind of shadows, a formless snare,
    Dragging the mortals into its lair.

    Anonymous laments echoed in the distance—faint, deliberate,
    A wanderer perhaps, someone who dared to explore this barren world,
    Searching for something, anything.

    But there was no one else.
    No soul, no companion, no warmth,
    Only the endless cycle of overthinking and the ache of isolation.

    The mind wandered into mazes of memory,
    But even there, the colours had faded,
    And the voices of the past had grown faint.

    A lone figure stood by the shore, gazing into the nothingness of the sea.
    Their reflection, distorted by the gentle ripples of the water,
    Seemed more real than the person.

    Unusual loneliness wore the moon’s facade,
    A ghostly mask in an empty space,
    Draining light, leaving no trace.

    And in this moment, time itself became irrelevant.
    There was no before, no after, only this singular, agonising now,
    An eternal present where nothing changed.

    Where the world, once teeming with life, had become a still frame,
    Frozen in the throes of despair,
    A realm untouched by the hands of time.

    The atmosphere became oppressive, clinging to everything like a second skin,
    Stifling even the thought of escape,
    The dreams laboured to survive in such a world.

    Each sigh was a reminder of the poundage of existence,
    And, in the midst of all this, there was always something strangely awkward—
    Perhaps it was the predictability of the emptiness.

    Unusual loneliness penetrated the stones,
    A shout that hummed when everyone was alone,
    Weaving despair in every bone.

    The knowledge that nothing would bewilder the silence,
    No sudden joy, no sharp pain—just the steady hum of nothing,
    A bleak kind of peace.

    And maybe that was the true curse of this unusual loneliness,
    The temptation to surrender to it fully,
    To embrace the void as one’s own.

    To forget the world beyond,
    For what was the use in resisting when the darkness seemed so welcoming?
    The quiet called out, beckoning for surrender.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • 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

  • The Shadows of Trauma

    The Shadows of Trauma

    The shadows of trauma arose in the hollow night,
    When the world turned gloomy, devoid of light.
    There crept a cloud, cold and vast,
    A spectre summoned from the past.

    Faint whispers drifted in the wind’s soft cry,
    Of days gone by, where hope would die,
    Where edicts of a cruel fate
    Chained hearts and minds in endless woe.

    The quiet hours brought it near,
    A weight that fed on silent fear.
    Its claws of sorrow raked the soul,
    Leaving wounds that never would be whole.

    The shadows of trauma, long forgotten, or so it seemed,
    In the days when innocence once gleamed,
    But buried deep beneath the skin,
    The trauma stirred, awake within.

    The faces lost, the voices gone,
    But still, the trauma lingered on,
    A spectre bound to grief’s dark well,
    Where once there stood a fragile shell.

    It feasted on the hidden grief,
    In every sob, in every sigh.
    Teardrops of sorrow, silent thieves,
    Granted pain that would not die.

    The shadows of trauma, through haunted dreams, sought their prey,
    In every sigh, in each dismay.
    The fleeting peace was ripped away,
    As shadows lengthened, twisting astray.

    Now trapped beneath a heavy pall,
    With no escape, no hope to call,
    The past arose with forgotten names,
    And life would never be the same.

    In silence, it never swayed,
    The trauma cast in shades of fray,
    A haunting force that never fled,
    Until darkness lived where the light had bled.

    The shadows of trauma yelled to the wind,
    Like a horrible storm of fires and ice.
    Memories carved deep, where silence had sinned,
    Relics of anguish, a perilous price.

    Through the darkness, a shadow lingered,
    A yearning for solace, for new dawn’s heightened.
    Chaos and despair, a fragile thread,
    While wishes had lingered softly where shadows once dwelled.

    Fragility wilted in the chasms of despair,
    A haunting echo of a soul laid bare.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

© Esther Racah 2025. All rights reserved.