The magic foggy night became my night of dreams and fantastical visions. A bright, cloudy full moon stirred delightful emotions in my heart, cherishing a marvellous melancholy and sordid dismay. My attention was astonished by the sight of a stack of weathered antique books illuminated by a flamboyant candle beside a shining brass armillary sphere. The magic foggy night didn’t reveal its secrets, so I tried to talk to an esoteric book with celestial motifs, asking questions about that mysterious wisdom I was not supposed to know. As I proceeded in my questionable quest, I caught sight of a glowing glass lantern, while a solitary black raven perched on the weathered stone balcony railing amid climbing ivy. In solitude, I was resolute enough to disclose every aspect of my bizarre fate, which never failed to surprise me. As long as the magic foggy night made my imagination more unpredictable and hectic, it caused me to lose my ability to be comforted by my slumbering rest. Many doubts crossed my mind uncomfortably as I gasped uneasily whenever I realised that all I was glimpsing was a pristine daydream. It seemed that beauty was an ephemeral manifestation of my evanescent dreams. For too long I let my expectations fall into the abyss of decay, and in vain I waited for an impetuous storm to invite me into another realm. Nevertheless, the blemishes in my heart became engraved truths, which were too harsh to endure as I became more aware of the desolation of my existence. The magic foggy night had made me acquainted with nocturnal creatures and forbidden knowledge at the sight of splendour and magnificence. Alas, so abruptly time had passed, and oblivion claimed all those treasures, which hitherto had been my cherished belongings. Therefore, my flamboyant candle with the shining brass armillary sphere and weathered antique occult books together with the glowing glass lantern faded away into the void of the gloomy night. The solitary black raven flew high up into the sky until it lay beside the glistering stars. All that remained to be seen was the withered ivy and some relics of my whispers of despair. The magic foggy night had been just an illusion; a dream that didn’t accompany me for as long as I wished. The night’s deception was but an evanescence, vanishing into the darkness and leaving behind nothing but the bitter remembrance of a resplendence that had never truly been mine.
Elisabetta Esther
Tag: mystical night
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The Magic Foggy Night
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Among Heartbeats And Sighs
Among heartbeats and sighs, I passed my long summer nights, while dew from the flowers fell on my skin. Purity and passion blended, enticing me to the garden of the forbidden desires.
The wind carried the exquisite poison of night flowers to my lips, awakening my body. I was mesmerised and enchanted with the phantom beauty of my own descent.
I dreamed of marvellous roses sumptuously evoking delight and bliss. I grabbed and bit the fruits of frenzy and turmoil ready to satisfy my desire.
Desire and covetousness were my startling cravings, which made my heart beat again and again like a source of power. I was dominated by my passions that monopolised all my attention.
I fell into the trap of my mistakes and cried out all my pangs as if my teardrops could have erased all that dismay. I kept a multitude of longings in my secret treasure chest, which I sealed with tears and trepidation.
A gloomy cloud of fear and disillusion enveloped me threateningly, deterring me from staring at the luminaries shining bright in the dark blue firmament.
I was conquered like prey by wicked impulses, which were conducting me to the brink of uproar. I couldn’t find peace anymore in my slumber since evil nightmares were keeping me eternally awake.
Demise would have been the portal of my liberation, and instead, I was playing with ghosts and magical roses. I didn’t want to accept the truth, I desired to pretend that everything was perfectly terrible.
The silver moon gleamed upon me pouring its ethereal light over my garden of woe and sorrow. And among heartbeats and sighs, I remained silent and listened to the whispers of the nocturnal breeze.
I could scent the taste of toxic magic on my red lips. I felt a burden in my chest burning like an everlasting flame. I wished fervently to be a free butterfly, flying over enchanted flowers. I wished intensely to be a free bird, soaring high amidst clouds and stars.
A spell was cast over me, binding my heart to invisible phantoms. Desires had ensnared me in their vicious frolic, melting my heart into a lake of fire and ice. Therefore, I became a creature of that realm of shadows and darkness.
Elisabetta Esther -
Sweet And Mournful Vexations
Sweet and mournful vexations fell all over me like a midsummer rain shower, while I was enticed frantically by my nocturnal demons with shallow folly. All alone I tried to disentangle myself from those chains of obsession.
I could barely breathe and I wasn’t able to remember my name at all. So reserved and bashful as I was born, I couldn’t avoid wandering nowhere to find myself and the arcane secret locked by my fate.
I had wished for myself a different destiny that would have granted me solace and delights. No peace remained in my treasure chest but only the dust of decay and a sparkle of dismay.
A deafening silence claimed that I was insolent for my fearless dreams. I missed the calm nights at the candlelight, soothed by the sound of lullabies and ocean storms.
I envisioned the image of spectres each time I approached the silver surface of a broken mirror. A feverish delirium forced me to succumb to the darkness of the night.
I might have been a withered flower. I might have been a living creature. The gelid arrows of the frosty wind penetrated my heart that was burning like an everlasting flame. So frail I felt I could crumble like a crystal flower under the influence of devastation.
Maybe the abyss of descent had swallowed me like a wild monster from the underworld. Chaos bound me like a velvet veil fallen from the gloomy sky, while shadows hushed me as if I were on the brink of disclosing their enigmas.
Sweet and mournful vexations lulled me to my decay, engraving a mysterious elegy on every stone of my dungeon. A magnificent melancholy consoled me now that I was nothing but just the spoil of myself.
I had created my own doom by means of my own nightmares. Was I the real and only creator of my own oblivion? That question echoed in my head forever like a haunting dream. I couldn’t even surprise myself anymore.
So greatly lured was I, drawn into the maze of my own turmoil, where each image promised ecstasy exclusively, and instead offered me only exquisite torments. So much intertwined I was in the spiderweb of my fears that I could not liberate myself.
Devoured by my own passions and obsessions, I entered the labyrinth of sweet and mournful vexations, which clung to my very heart like insidious ivy. Meanwhile, the imperceptible sound of the night surrounded me like a mystic mist. And therein I remained like a frozen butterfly in a garden of shimmering glaze.
Elisabetta Esther -
The Doomed Spell
The doomed spell of the underworld was cast on me
While I was wandering in my silent ways on a summer night
Resentment and fear were far from me but the danger of death was following me
Like an ominous shadow behind me
Ready to decide when my end was going to happenAnd suddenly, like a storm in a clear sky, horror manifested itself before me.
And, to all my fears, a bewitched and gigantic carriage, guided by a demon who struck blows upon his demonic horse with sharp teeth and a spectral gaze,
a carriage populated by spectres, spirits and skeletons, all assembled as in a gathering.My long dress became soaked with mud and earth as I crossed this road of disgrace and death.
And behold, the spectral coachman with his evil gaze headed directly towards my person to put an end to my existence, unleashing all his strength and aggressiveness and violence against me, and I almost perished — death brushed me, if it hadn’t been for a miraculous touch that diverted my figure from such horror.Shaken and bewildered, I relived the miracle of life, of rebirth, and it was there, in that fleeting and transient instant, that I was born again, assuming a new identity, even if my appearance had not quite changed — but my heart had become of bronze, copper and silver.
The moon shone high in the night of storm and serenity, and the echo of my horror and of my spasms of fear and distress spread through all the firmament, making the stars hear my tale of misery and miracle.
The doomed spell ruled over my mad destiny and had crumbled like a kind of majestic castle.
It is splendid, but within it, my gloomy, shadowy soul was falling to pieces.
And, filled with sorrows more than joys, it was crumbling apart under the weight of life — and of that night of nightmares and atrocities.
Elisabetta