Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: poetic darkness

  • The Shadow Of Death

    The Shadow Of Death

    The shadow of death was behind me, perpetually, like a faithful lover, tearing from my heart every hope of being loved and cherished as a unique treasure. It was a distorted mirror that reflected my anguish and my fears. It filled my cell with scarlet red incense, which constantly suffocated me, stifling me and preventing me from seeing my own image.

    I lived this suffocating and abominable pseudo‑reality in constant terror, no longer understanding whether it was real or a surreal fantasy, the product of my hallucinations. I perceived those distressing candles that burned me alive every time I approached their presence.

    The cold rock walls were so thick that, however much I strove to cry out and scream my pain, no one could ever hear it—no mortal and no creature from the subterranean world of the afterlife to which, apparently, I now belonged.

    Amid dust and drops of my blood, I was relegated like a lifeless creature, feeding on the faint light of the blood‑red candles, and that suffocating incense that penetrated every part of my body. Even the stars refused to cast light into that narrow cell, where my pierced heart had been nailed to a dilapidated wall as if it were a souvenir on display.

    I no longer had the capacity to harbour a desire or to hope for an existence wrapped in enchanted flowers and love spells. Everything I had dreamed of I had lost in the abyss of obliteration, and all that I had vainly pursued in my miserable existence had vanished, having only materialised into a bleak and mortifying prison for my soul.

    And thus I vanished into that menacing and omnipresent cloud that loomed over me. Even the decrepit walls, made of cold and indifferent rock, had no tears to shed for my bitter demise. I myself had become the shadow of death, no longer a mortal being but a creature of that world I had so long shunned, which, despite everything, had devoured me entirely and inescapably.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • My Delight Was My Demise

    My Delight Was My Demise

    My delight was my demise. My greed, so bitter and dark, gripped my heart, crushing it with all its essence, and all my most secret desires crumbled like shards of crystal upon the frozen, sorrowful ground. Alas, misery had destined me to be its sacrificial victim. And yes, I had no escape from my cruel fate.

    However much I loved love and the delights of an existence made of dreams and gentle flowers. Reneged by mortals and secluded within my dark and comfortless crypt, I sought refuge in my fantasy, pursuing with my withered soul, steeped in sorrow, all my most hidden and forbidden desires.

    I wept and shed as many tears as there are drops in the infinite ocean that stretched far away from me, since I was not granted the privilege of beholding it from my dark alcove. Nor was I allowed to see the stars, ever again in my lugubrious existence—such was my fatal destiny.

    My only companion was my perpetual candle, which illuminated my lugubrious space, merely to remind me of my misery, my finitude, and my impotence. Ghosts of the past spied on me, casting shadows upon the decrepit walls, dilapidated by the storms.

    The echo of my sighs reached the stars, which gazed at me with cynicism and indifference, as if I were unworthy of their affection, while dark and menacing clouds reminded me of my defeat. While scattered feelings bounced within my torn and bloodless heart.

    Threatening shadows embodied my fears and my most turbid secrets, which I would never have been able to reveal to any soul. And so, between resignation and funerary torpor, I lay inert, as though I were a stone statue. In all my fragility and in all my vulnerability, I knew that what awaited me was nothing but the destruction of my heart, my essence, my very self—total obliteration and oblivion. They were my final destination.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • Spells And Dreams

    Spells And Dreams

    Spells and dreams animated the garden of the night
    My words became ghosts, and their shapes were hunting nightmares
    Even the frost of the winter night couldn’t awaken me from my eternal slumber
    Indeed, I had fallen victim to a vicious enchantment
    Magic ruled my existence, in the shape of books and arcane tales
    I couldn’t help but follow the alluring call that hypnotised me like a live spell
    Luscious flowers had covered my body, and my heart felt feral
    The night dew moistened all the captivating flowers in my garden
    Love would never die within me, as I embodied untamed passions

    Spells and dreams visited every night of mine
    They came to me as phantoms and demons, though they were not always nightmares
    It was an unexpected and unavoidable fable
    I suddenly succumbed to their enticing frolics
    For I was naïve and oblivious of the consequences
    Letting these haunting creatures take advantage of me and possess me with all their might
    And even if it was silly nonsense, my fate was entangled with darkness and doom
    I was willingly joyous for this bizarre and painful outcome
    Merriment and wisdom faded away, being replaced by perils and folly
    I chose to devote myself entirely to a realm where my heart was all flames and blood
    Where daggers were piercing me voluptuously, like feathers of pleasure

    This garden of mine was no longer a wonderland
    All the flowers had turned garnet
    They sipped life from my blood, and I grew weaker and weaker
    I perished from my own silliness, chasing my desires and yearning for nonsensical passions
    The stars had already been eclipsed by the tempestuous sky
    The sharp blades of poisoned daggers prevailed with vicious cruelty
    I was encircled by the hostile wraiths of gloom
    Their indifferent gazes traced the collapse of my heart
    And in deafening silence, my end came to life.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • Beneath The Light Of A Candle

    Beneath The Light Of A Candle

    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 blood drops
    My heart had been pierced in myriad moments
    And I could see him nailed to a rusty nail
    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
    Dismembering my soul and tearing it to shreds
    I had fallen victim to my own tragedy
    Even though I have eluded the weight of grief
    All the most beautiful blossoms of my garden had withered
    Flowered meadows transformed into a hollow valley of tears and blood
    I had lost all my dearest treasures and a spell was cast over my insane fate
    Crimson and dark shadows were confining me in my infernal dwelling
    Haunted by dark memories and atrocious obsessions
    Where I couldn’t find a sparkle of love and hope
    I might have been allowed to see my relentless grave
    There she stood so magnificent and exquisite
    A monument to my witlessness and insanity
    Beneath the light of a candle
    I had perished anonymously
    Only glooms and clouds were grieving for me
    Under a sky made of glass and pearls
    At the dead of night
    When chimaeras and ghouls gathered
    As soon as the moon invoked them
    Hence 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

  • Love Like A Sweet Poison

    Love Like A Sweet Poison

    Love like a sweet poison seeped into the heart, and time no longer existed in the realm of the eternal night. Passion burned as an everlasting flame and it altered into eternal desire.

    A tenacious devotion was rooted in a ground made of ice and blood. And I stood among crimson roses and the nocturnal mist, under the sight of an eerie moon.

    The darkness enveloped me like a sumptuous dress wrapped around me. The faraway shadows of anguish and dread were chasing me as ominous ghouls.

    I was seeking ghosts that reminded me of lost loves while wandering accompanied by my madness as the only chaperone.

    No pang could ever touch me anymore since I’ve been depleted of my heart that was impaled on a dry branch of a dead tree, bleeding loudly like an incessant scream.

    My only way to exist was to roam erratically without any guidance. I was already dead. I had died a myriad of times in numerous ways.

    I had definitely forsaken the world of mortals, with whom I never felt any connection. I didn’t mind losing myself in that tremendous labyrinth.

    As far as I could proceed, I felt the nothingness swallowing me with delight. A storm had subjugated me and torn me to pieces.

    Not even a speck of me had been kept by the frozen soil, because a whirlwind had stolen my essence. I was held captive by the abyss of death and there were no expectations or delusions.

    I finally remembered as a long-lost memory that time no longer existed, when love seeped into the heart like a sweet poison. It burned slowly, transforming into eternal desire.

    And there I lay down underneath the soil soaked with ice and blood with my heart impaled on a dry branch of a dead tree, bleeding fearlessly and ceaselessly like a funerary elegy.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • Surrounded By Darkness

    Surrounded By Darkness

    Surrounded by darkness and evil spirits
    I wandered lost among dark shapes and whispered truths
    The thorns in my heart traced the path to my destiny
    While secrets and hidden tales were hiding beyond my control

    And I could hear the clock ticking in a rhythmic way
    Almost like a symphony of time and dreams
    Moving lyrical rhymes within my mind like leaves in the wind
    As if fate had determined that I was merely its puppet, to be used at its whim.

    I danced amid the heart of utter darkness
    Amongst phantoms and malevolent ghouls
    Surrounded by darkness and dark shapes
    They whispered secret truths I should be aware of
    They intimated to me to be careful and never trust

    I used my blood to carve all my verses on each stone I met
    While the pain tore me apart like soft cotton candy
    The scent of arcane spells and incense made me feel overwhelmed
    Bewitched by my own demons evoked through ancient tarots
    I lay down on a silent throne of illusions and deception

    So, I chose to remain in silence to seal an invisible oath.
    Elisabetta

  • Mournful Shadows

    Mournful Shadows

    In the stillness of the night, the sky was stormy and overcrowded with lightning and thunder. Rain was pouring down, and the wind was impetuous.

    The exquisite scent of rainwater perfumed my small chamber from which I glimpsed the dark and stormy landscape.

    Chaos and order alternated in my bleak soul, full of grief. A piercing funereal pain had gripped my entire essence.

    Intrusive thoughts and faded hopes crowded my mind as if they were unwelcome intruders, not invited by me.

    Joy and darkness unfolded like buds in my soul, becoming thorny briars that wounded my heart and tore apart my being.

    The bright sun, dethroned in the sky by great threatening and dark clouds in a midsummer storm, was no longer on my visual horizon, making me reflect on my bleak and mortal fate, which condemned me to a sense of perpetual anguish.

    It was as if I had lost the ability to express all that I felt in my heart, the most hidden secrets and concealed truths that I had never been able to reveal to any mortal.

    My fragility had become my only resource—my shattering into pieces and severing from the source of life, from every source of life—had made me like a dead flower in a solitary valley, where a majestic and deserted tower saw its reflection in a ridiculous, nearly nonexistent pond.

    My fragility had become my only resource—my shattering into pieces and severing from the source of life, from every source of life—had made me like a dead flower in a solitary valley, where a majestic and deserted tower saw its reflection in a ridiculous, nearly nonexistent pond.

    Mournful shadows ruled over me.
    They were the ones who decided my path and my fate.
    They were invisible, yet present—and immensely powerful.
    I felt like a doll, a puppet, at the mercy of their whimsical desires and decisions.

    And so I perished,
    by the hand of my own fears,
    by the hand of my own funeral anguish,
    And I became a mournful shadow myself,
    No different from the others.
    Elisabetta

  • The Well Of Phantom Wishes

    The Well Of Phantom Wishes

    The well of phantom wishes
    Was the well of my disappointments
    Of all those illusions
    That had deceived me
    In a malevolent way
    With their allure
    And their way of
    Misleading me
    With fake smiles and phrases
    Like lines from a script
    But in truth, it was all fake
    Every single thing
    And every
    One I had known, glimpsed
    Were nothing but
    Delusional
    Realities
    Beneath
    A deception
    A cruel deception
    That dragged me down
    Into that well
    So deep and so dark
    That I could not glimpse
    Any
    Vision
    Any hope

    My tears were of no use, nor was my despair.
    My broken heart had shattered, like a crystal or stone ornament,
    its translucence and splendour reduced to dust and fragments,
    soiled by the cold ground, soaked in mud and decadent filth.
    That beauty I had once cherished within me
    had turned into a twisted transfiguration of my own reflection.

    What remained in my hands was dust and decay.
    I closed my eyes, and silence shrouded my thoughts,
    making them vague and fleeting like dark shadows
    that moved around me but I could never reach.

    One of my silver bracelets that shone like stars broke,
    and through its fractures, you could read my life’s illness,
    My malaise of living, my melancholic soul
    that had no peace and could find no place of salvation,
    lost among the clouds that darkened my mind.

    The pain was raining down on me like one of those cold and biting winter rains.
    Almost as if it wanted to scratch me and leave marks like painful and distressing memories that followed me wherever I went at any time.

    My sighs and sobs were mystified by that funeral silence of the endless night which had neither beginning nor end, and which wrapped me in its dark and misty cloak, almost to intoxicate me with its gloom and make me forget my infinite pain.
    Elisabetta

  • The Vault Of Forsaken Keys

    The Vault Of Forsaken Keys

    The vault of forsaken keys was the place of shadows and mysteries, of wisdom and madness, and where the keys of all the world, beyond the earthly and the earthly, were kept. It is not known to what or to whom they belonged, yet they seemed to guard secrets that no one could know.

    As dark and gloomy as this cavern of fantasy and greed might seem, of recession and generosity, it had a particular charm, a sobriety so composed that it impressed me for the order and at the same time the madness that hovered in those ancient and decrepit halls.

    The scent of incense and ancient metal impregnated the air, which was coloured by semi-shadows, by metallic reflections that the shadows cast upon the walls.

    The endless and long corridors spread out into an infinite labyrinth impossible to decipher. Without being able to find an exact direction. But one constant thing was the vision of a light like a perpetual faint glow at the end of these corridors. And the more I proceeded, the more I found no end. It was as if I had remained trapped in that underground and undefined place from which I was certain I could no longer escape. Because in fact there was no way out. And I was destined to become one of the countless and anonymous metal keys arranged on the walls.

    My freedom had been devoured by that unnamed and unfindable place. My troubles and cries were worth nothing, I only lost my breath. It was as if gradually I was losing the faculty to perceive my breath. And it was as if I was transforming into something else.

    I never knew if I was dreaming. I never knew if I was a common mortal, a being born on a planet. Or, instead, I was the fruit of my own imagination and I do not know what I was, what I had originated from. I too felt like one of those countless keys, in that vault of forsaken keys.
    Elisabetta

  • Beneath The Hollow Moon

    Beneath The Hollow Moon

    Beneath the hollow moon, I wandered behind shadows
    It seemed like a dream but it felt very tangible
    It was an ethereal feeling mixed with physical perceptions
    In a secret garden made of dead trees and withered blossoms

    The ephemeral veil of the night enveloped me
    I was an invisible creature of the night
    Hiding from mortal sight and dreaming with open eyes
    My visions and hallucinations had become reality

    The haze of darkness cast a spell on me
    Odd spirits offered me to drink from a goblet of poison
    It was a magic potion of oblivion and poison
    Whilst I sipped it, I fell into a deep slumber

    I had forgotten my name and the place where I dwelled
    I had become a ghost and a shadow of the night
    Imperceptible even to the stars and the moon
    I was lost in the labyrinth of my own nightmares

    I waited not for my death because I was no longer a mortal
    The sorrow and distress of the human world didn’t touch me anymore
    I was the darkness and the night
    Empowered but still a captive of this arcane underworld

    Every part of my incorporeal body belonged to this dungeon of royal decadence
    A victim of haunting eerie dreams, I had no other place where to go
    It didn’t matter how long I could have screamed my memories
    Nothing changed, and my fate stayed unaffected

    I had traded my freedom for a kingdom of death and ethereal phantasmagoria
    Beneath the hollow moon, I wandered endlessly
    Seeking my lost heart in the maze of resentment and silver coffrets full of secrets
    And each sigh of mine transformed into a raven rose.

    A heart full of sorrow and a crown of black roses on my head
    Nothing else.
    Elisabetta

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