Beneath the light of a candle
I hid all my sorrows
My crying out loud was the epitome of my shadows
Lying on the wooden soil of my dark chamber
I could listen to the delightful sound of raindrops
My heart had been broken in myriad moments
And I could see it hovering in the sky
Painting the wallpaper with crimson hues
The scent of dragon’s blood incense enveloped me in a thick cloud
I could allow myself to follow my foolish illusions
They have always kept me on the verge of madness
A relentless turmoil would have emptied me endlessly
Fragmenting my soul and transforming it into stardust
I had fallen victim to my own tragedy
Even though I have eluded the burden of grief
All the most beautiful blossoms of my garden had withered
Flowered meadows transformed into a hollow valley of tears and withered rose petals
I had lost all my dearest treasures and a spell was cast over my erratic fate
Crimson and dark shadows were confining me in my infernal dwelling
Haunted by dark memories and vicious obsessions
Where I couldn’t find a sparkle of love and hope
I might have been allowed to see my relentless crypt
There she stood so magnificent and exquisite
A monument to my witlessness and folly
Beneath the light of a candle
I had vanished anonymously
Only glooms and clouds were grieving for me
Under a sky made of glass and pearls
At nightfall
When chimaeras and ghouls gathered
As soon as the moon summoned them
Therefore I had become a creature of the otherworld
A realm of perpetual twilight and wilted leaves
Where wisdom had forever been obliterated
And silence sealed the portal to mortal sight.
Elisabetta Esther
Tag: Occult Imagery
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Beneath The Light Of A Candle
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Possessed And Haunted By My Yearnings
Possessed and haunted by my yearnings, I was bewitched by wicked creatures and exquisite ghouls, which I cherished each night devoutly.
My heart had been dilapidated and torn apart by mortal shallow caprices. I did cast fatal spells that shattered hearts and obliterated kingdoms. My longings were my ruin and delight.
I felt pierced by arrows of passion, and I could breathe ecstatic instants of decay. I sought transformation. I was willing to free my soul in the frosty wind of the winter nights.
All my precious dreams had been turned to ashes of sorrow. My heart was just an ethereal fragment of ardour with no mercy for those who harmed me. Thus, I surrendered to frenzy and bitterness.
I wailed all my wrath to the stars at midnight. I summoned my beloved nightmares, who listened carefully to my invocations. Therefore, the most fierce storms annihilated those who took me for granted, replacing me with shallow puppets.
I recited my poetic rhymes made of esoterism and black magic in the worst moments of dismay and chagrin. I sang to the sun and to the moon my anguish while crying tears of crimson crystals. I wished for oblivion and fearless vengeance.
My dreadful sobs eclipsed the sound of many thunders and maelstroms. Possessed and haunted by my yearnings, I was sorely lacking in my innocence. Instead, I had become the embodiment of passion.
I begged all the underworld creatures to calm my anger down. Still, the only possible outcome was a chant of vengeance, wrapped in a black rope and sealed with the wax of raven and crimson candles.
I conjured all the underworld spirits and sublime spectres, my most loyal companions, and they responded to my visitation. They unleashed turmoil and havoc, and they took me with them into their realm of Hades.
Surrounded by crystal crowns and stone flowers, I had become a sorceress and the queen of shadows and forbidden realms. In my heart, there were only tainted spells and vexations. Surrounded by nightmares, I finally found myself in the realm of untamed desires and ruthless darkness.
Elisabetta Esther -
In The Frosted Rose Garden Of Madness
In the frosted rose garden of madness, a place of bliss and delight, prospered in secrecy. Thorns and petals intertwined in a lethal union, merging like sweet poison in the twilight. Snowflakes were falling over me like soft caresses sent by the luminaries. Clouds were numbing me with their alluring charm, casting bad memories away from my mind.
Everything seemed perfect and deformed. What appeared to be real was just an illusion, and I fed my soul with delusions and glimmering lies. While the flickering of the candlelight created constantly bizarre drawings of shadows on the walls, made of bricks and bones. The wind hushed me, for me to pay attention to some revelation I was supposed to hear.
The frosted rose garden of madness was my hidden haven of lunacy and spices. Every kind of rose would blossom in it, surrounded by thorns and arrows. The exquisite magnificence of the view contrasted with the scent of death, which was hovering over it like a wraith from the underworld. My madness was the artifice of my descent to a vortex of frenzies and obsessions.
Storms inside my heart besieged my boldness, and I surrendered to them. Undoubtedly, I was bold enough to face my obliteration, but not enough to accept my burden. Lore and legend taught me the perilous path to oblivion. Thorns and pins pierced my heart as I embraced folly and turmoil.
I wish I could help myself in this labyrinth of passions and longings. Nonetheless, I was lost permanently in the realm of nowhere and absurdity, where everything could have been granted in every conceivable manner, in darkness and light. The colder I felt, the more the dwelling around me dissolved in a haunting haze of derealization.
Shadows sighed in despair, and infinity bled into nothingness. Gloomy shades invited me to hush, sealing my lips with crimson sealing wax. My freedom had been traded for eternal doom and toxic chains. I didn’t recognise my frosted rose garden of madness any longer, because it came to be a forsaken ravine.
Indisputably, my burdens had outlived their purpose. Even the trees and flowers refused to make my acquaintance. I was cast away in the kingdom of desolation and balderdash. I forfeited my voice, and my screams carved words of dismay into my heart.
I was mesmerised by stupor and dizziness as I crossed the portal to utopias and idylls. I had entered an everlasting dream, where I was ethereal and fragile like a rose tormented by blizzards. In solitude, my collapse epitomised the shattering of my dreams, which disintegrated into ashes and frosty flakes.
In the frosted rose garden of madness, I fell into a deadly slumber listening to the sound of a deafening silence. I could envision my fantasies as tainted desires of love and decay. Caressing brambles and hibernated roses, I vanished into the marvellous dark mist of the night as if I had never been a mortal creature. I became darkness and light. I became ice and fire.
Elisabetta Esther -
The Shadow Of Decay
The shadow of decay was behind me, perpetually, like a faithful lover, pulling every hope of being loved and cherished as a unique treasure out of my heart. It was a distorted mirror reflecting my anguish and fears, filling my chamber with scarlet red incense, oppressing and stifling me, and preventing me from seeing my own portrait.
I lived this overwhelming and dreadful pseudo‑reality in constant anguish, no longer understanding whether it was truth, a surreal fantasy, or the product of my hallucinations. I perceived those grievous candles that enflamed my yearnings every time I approached them.
The cold rock walls were so thick that, however much I strove to lament and weep my pain, no one could ever hear it—no mortal and no creature from the mysterious world of immortality to which, apparently, I now belonged.
Amid dust and teardrops, I was relegated like an evanescent creature, living on the faint light of garnet candles, and thick, resinous incense smoke that enveloped me in its sacred, suffocating haze. Even the stars refused to shine into my little vault, where my pierced heart lay clutched by the crumbling walls like a macabre relic on display.
I was no longer able to harbour a desire or hope for an existence made of enchanted flowers and love spells. I had lost in the abyss of obliteration everything I had desired, and all that I had vainly pursued in my tragic life had vanished, offering me just a bleak and mortifying dungeon for my soul.
And thus I vanished into a menacing and omnipresent cloud that loomed over me. Even the decrepit walls, made of cold and insensible rock, had no tears to shed for my bitter demise. I myself had become the shadow of decay, no longer a mortal being but a creature of that world I had so long forgotten, which, despite everything, had embraced me entirely and inescapably.
Elisabetta Esther -
Between Dust And Mirrors
Between dust and mirrors
I carried silent letters,
wrapped in paper made of mist and waiting,
not filled with confidence—
but with enchantments.I did not know, yet I knew.
The Sun had greeted me,
upright, high—
as in those cards that never lie.And I walked,
through the lower kingdom of the nameless city,
through the fractures of reality
none of my sages could explain:
a black swamp,
where humanoid larvae and shrieking wraiths
bared their shadowy teeth
and brandished blades in the rancid air.All was corrupted.
All was decay.
Creatures of the underworld
called me bright star,
tried to seize me,
to drain the last whole word from my lips.But I walked still,
even with the Chariot reversed,
even as the Hanged Man spoke from his unseen cross,
even as the Moon, askew,
laughed behind her veil of deception.I walked on,
I proceeded with endurance
carrying my letters of destiny
and a name no one can pronounce.
Unknown among the ruins of grandeur,
a pilgrim between topaz and filth.And then I saw it.
On the horizon, beyond the bridge of centuries,
stood an enchanted castle.
My cherished palace.
Towers gleaming like guarded dreams,
mirrored waters whispering of other realms.
And there, behind an eternal glass veil,
sat my holy icon,
keeper of the visions and silence.
A beacon for those who have lost their path
but not the flame.However, atop those gilded peaks,
behind windows lit by empty feasts and fools’ champagne,
The puppets of excess laughed,
tripping over their own void.
There, power wears the mask of the jester.Nonetheless, between dust and mirrors,
I carried sorcery and spells.
Broken enchantments,
witchcraft writhing in blood-stained claws,
arcane revelations seeping from the soil like forgotten rites;Tarot glyphs ignite beneath cursed fangs,
a pact inked in shadows and old essence.
A thread of fate winds unseen,
binding my name to the arcane roots.Thus I crossed
the border between realms that do not convey,
with a sharpened awareness
of one who can no longer close the eyes—
not even to dream enchanted chimearas.
Elisabetta -
The Oracle Of The Withered Roots
The oracle of the withered roots stood silent above me,
As I wandered beneath a sky split by its eye
While silence whispered thunders and nightmares,
And the origins of the world gnarled like a bone-stuffed monster
Its speech was in a tongue older than rot.They called it the oracle,
The tree that remembered all betrayals,
and fed on forgotten truths.Around it, ash-walkers and crawling fates
circled around the blue flame of judgment,
and I, unnamed, felt the mark sear through my skin,
As slashes that revealed my defeat and destruction.All kinds of nasty creatures surrounded me as I was their potential prey,
They were ready to violate and devour me,
They were there to rip my heart apart into infinite fragments of dreams.Each tree was the custodian of skulls and arcane rituals,
As they moved forward their sacred flame,
A blaze blue like the deepest abyss of solitude.Tempted to adore this blue flame or this blue fire by all these creatures that at times seemed obsessed by it, at times frightened.
From these spirits and monsters, I could perceive fears and enthusiasts and enthusiasms that alternated in their life, which could not be called joyful, gentle, or even glad.The oracle of the withered roots gazed through its curious and overbearing eye, trying to peer into my heart, but in vain. My soul was a labyrinth of torments and delights, and being unable to discern its true essence, it grew angry with me and condemned me to a restless and uneasy life, to wander in search of myself.
The skulls smiled at me with their grin,
which seemed more like a mockery,
as if to say: “Soon enough, you too shall join our kingdom.”The other winged creatures brushed past me
With their curious, cunning eyes,as if to urge me to leap
into the abyss of the unknown —At first, it appeared to be a small pond,
in truth, it concealed a chasm of nothingness.
Elisabetta