Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: poetic ritual

  • The Collapse Of My Haunted Illusions

    The Collapse Of My Haunted Illusions

    The collapse of my haunted illusions began the night of my fall into the dark chasm of my fears, where I’ve been tortured by sharp thorns and daggers, penetrating my heart in every way, and making it bleed to the very last drop of blood.

    My soul was burning alive, and I could hear the screams of my dreams, alive and breathing, to get the last essence of my foolishness. I had tormented scars cherishing my grief and sorrow. All in the while of my transformation and decay.

    I was reborn and died oftentimes, as long as my heart was struck by the many thunders of madness and self-destruction. Everything could have obliterated me in the valley of despair and grief.

    I was bound to the chains of the deserted version of myself and obscure presages. The fate surrendered at the sight of the tower of my solitude, where I was the only captive in the presence of wraiths made of tragic illusions.

    My tragedy was an everlasting and bright gift, like a hidden treasure. I knew not what could be expected beyond the several doors that kept me locked up. I could have screamed all night long and no phantom would have heard.

    My tears were pearls anchored to my neck like sharp hooks, tearing at my skin. While obsessive fears were swallowing my soul, and as much as I might run, they hunted me wherever I wandered during my endless bleak nights.

    Loneliness was retaining me as a creature of its own realm. And the steadiness of silence besieged my delusional abode. My pierced heart dangled from the ceiling and its drops of blood traced sacred symbols on the frigid soil.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • Bound By Starlight

    Bound By Starlight

    By the light of my magic candles, I evoke your name and your heart,
    holding you within my heart like a jewel kept in a treasure box.
    An invisible, golden and shining thread binds us in this silent, warm night.

    Amidst intoxicating incense and alluring scents, my spell draws you to me like
    a seal of stars etched upon the night sky,
    an invisible thread of gold weaving our destinies,
    a silent dance among shadows where time stands still.

    May you be the hidden key within the labyrinth of dreams,
    the voice whispered by ancient winds,
    and may our meeting ignite like a sacred fire,
    burning through mists, dissolving all distance.

    I evoke your soul on this dark night,
    illuminated by magic and arcane secrets.

    My heart belongs to you, and you alone.

    May the stars bond us in an indissoluble oath of love and passion, enchantment and devotion.
    Elisabetta

  • Between Dust And Mirrors

    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

  • 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

  • Waiting For An Omen

    Waiting For An Omen

    Waiting for an omen
    Disillusioned by my fate
    Seeking magic numbers
    With no outcome
    Forgetting to have faith in mortals
    I was resolute in carving my book of ignominious names

    Not forgetting luck
    Not forgiving
    I remembered one by one their shameful name
    The puppet theatre had ended
    Without drapes
    Without pretense
    Their game was over

    Surrounded by a deserted and sombre landscape
    I contemplated the sense of life and death
    In the attendance of shadows and memories
    Silver and dark clouds arrived suddenly
    As unexpected guests

    Having forgotten me
    The stars hovered over the darkness of the night
    I cried in desolation and meditated on my own misery
    At that very particular moment, I knew I was born to perish

    I was just an ephemeral creature deprived of those fate gifts granted to everyone but me
    Softly, the enchanting spell of a midnight hymn hypnotised me
    Falling into a deep slumber from which I never again awoke

    Indeed, I became the property of the Hades
    The realm of eternal torment
    And there, I didn’t need any waiting
    I didn’t wait for anything

    Waiting for an omen was just a faded memory
    In a kingdom where no expectation was allowed to exist.
    Elisabetta

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