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: raven symbolism
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The Magic Foggy Night
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Burnt Flowers
Burnt flowers became ashes of anguish and despair
Within a realm full of wonders and sorrow
Snowflakes were melting into stars and flames
In the liminal space between night and day
Where the fury of storms encountered the hush of eternity
And the only melody I could hear was a solemn refrain
Feeling feverish and mortified at once
Feeling alive and fading indefinitely
I began to see glowing flowers in my garden
Every magnificent blossom trembled in silent anguish
But I felt a deep delight and bliss
Reminding myself that I would vanish alone
In an ocean of sorrow and tears
Without any consolation
Without any farewell or elegyOnce faded away
I became an obsidian raven
Insolent and powerful
Finding my amusement in whispering omens to mortals and sleeping atop withered trees
I enjoyed being surrounded by the scent of burnt flowers and incense
My supreme merriment was being caressed by the gleaming flames
And observing how easily mortals were undone by ruin and dissolution
I could freely smile in front of their astonished countenances
Although I had always aimed to be cherished
Although I had always wanted to be adored
All that I could attain was only a box of relics and thornsWho, indeed, could ever have consoled me?
Among the shadows surrounding me
Only a frozen indifference was offered to me in a silver cornucopia
With shady candles and fragments of seashells
Sipping sweet poison and bitter elixirs made me a sorceress
I was detached from the world of ghosts and illusions
By intentionally becoming a creature of the nether realm
Although the sky belonged to me as well
Burning quietly from within to make my existence bearable
Every pang was a blissful yearning, and my body could perceive its intensity.
Elisabetta Esther