Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: rebirth

  • The Spell Of The Blank Mirror

    The Spell Of The Blank Mirror

    The spell of the blank mirror; an invisible chain to a realm that drew me into its clutches. I had recited their arcane enchantment each night while my eyes were hidden by an ephemeral black veil and my lips were crimson from the nectar of my roses. I listened to their hypnotic spell, alluring like a siren song. Even though my eyes were closed, I could see everything and beyond every kind of imagination.

    I had achieved new perceptions, unknown among ordinary mortals. I could see a new realm invisible to humans where my heart was copiously bleeding my soul over a garden of black roses, which were avid for my essence seeking to sip until the very last drop. A sequence of visions took me away from reality. I wasn’t alive anymore, but I wasn’t lifeless either. I had vowed loyalty to the sacred order of magic.

    I could not abide what my own senses had forced me to witness. I saw ghouls feeding their ego with the shallow souls of imbecilic beings. The more I tried to understand myself, the more I felt that the emptiness inside me swallowed me. And the everlasting fire that sustained my heart alive transformed into an abyss of vengeance and fury. I became the night and the night became myself.

    I embraced my descent to the realm of Hades as the most exquisite triumph of my tragic existence. I could taste the poison of the spell of the blank mirror; a tangible proof of my occult sensitivity in perceiving things invisible to human sight. Accompanied by ravens and ghastly vaults, I metamorphosed into an ethereal creature, who no mortal could defeat. I became sacred to the vicious ghouls of the darkness; they carved their arcane symbols into my heart and soul, soaking my heart with their eternal essence.

    I had become infinite and eternal. I had surpassed the stars of which I had now become the only sovereign. I had become the night and the darkness. I had become an ethereal creature, detached from the corrupted world of the mortals. Lightning and thunder celebrated me as the dark queen of the eternal night. I retained all the glimmering light of the luminaries, and I veiled the moon with a velvet shroud made of lace and silk. I didn’t want any light or fire shine in this realm of perpetual nightfall.

    My endearing devils whispered arcane revelations, stroking me with delicate black roses, whose scent of night unfolded in resins and shadowed petals, drifting like smoke through the galleries of my secret and mysterious realm. I indulged in euphoria and dismay, now that my heart had become a holy crypt full of scorn and vengeance. My incubuses and nightmares paid me tributes and praises. All my suffering scars have become hieroglyphics, sigils, pentacles, hexagrams, runes, and obscure seals, etched in dark ink and shadow.

    The spell of the blank mirror vanished like a faint sob in the midst of an impetuous hurricane; it accomplished its mission of initiation and metamorphosis through which I went, leaving me inscribed with the silent glyphs of the unseen, marked by the sigils of shadowy forces, and bound to the eternal drafts of occult supremacy. Crowned and powerful, I sipped a magic elixir from a chalice wrought of relics and raven feathers, and I tasted the obscure bliss of nightmares and granted elation.

    I had disappeared and been reborn as the night and darkness. Every whisper I uttered became a decree for my loyal ghosts, and the scales of justice had finally been weighed in my favour. Fairness had been accomplished in my favour, at the threshold of the Nether Thresholds. And I feasted and reigned with my consecrated coven of beloved witches and phantoms, bound to me evermore.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • Sinking Underneath The Ocean Floor

    Sinking Underneath The Ocean Floor

    Sinking underneath the ocean floor
    With a painful grief like chains of sorrow
    Feeling disoriented and lost
    Like the death had reached for my heart with its numbing breath
    While I was letting the water and earth take advantage of my body

    I felt dark shadows and gods from the underworld touch my soul
    They imprinted their fire branding upon my hand of clay
    The path was established for eternity
    And I awakened as one of their kin, reborn in shadow.
    Elisabetta

  • The Ninth Seal

    The Ninth Seal

    The ninth seal
    Because the hour was nine. Or almost.
    Paris wept softly blue through cobblestones and gaslight.
    A monster came,
    not with claws nor teeth,
    But with wheels,
    A chained demon in place of horses,
    and the roar of hatred and madness disguised as an engine.

    He saw me.
    He chose me.
    He had determined that I had to die by his shameful hand
    The madman with the skull face,
    The carriage forged in a nightmare,
    drunk on fury,
    under a wicked spell,
    his infernal claws trembling not from fear —
    But from the thrill of ending me.

    And I,
    Just a girl in a pale embroidered dress,
    Crowned with strands of gold and unarmed,
    But not unguarded.

    For something stopped him.
    Something unseen.
    A force older than rot,
    stronger than rage,
    woven from secret whispers and gold light
    spilt from my angelic protector gaze.

    The wheels screamed.
    The demons reared.
    And time stopped to exist
    As the carriage froze inches from my heart.

    Behind me,
    two hags —
    with teeth like monuments and gums raw as hunger,
    bald as ancient ruins,
    laughed as if grace were weakness
    and survival, shame.

    Their laughter didn’t touch me.
    I walked on,
    not broken.
    Not bowed.
    My feet were flame and precious gemstones.

    I passed through death
    I passed through judgment
    as one who had died before —
    and been reborn
    With mirrors behind her eyes
    and dustless bones.

    No prayer was spoken.
    No sword was drawn.
    But a pact was sealed in starlight and crystal blaze.

    And so I say:

    Nine are the circles, nine the keys.
    I cloak myself in stone and destiny.
    He who looks sees nothing, he who listens hears no sound,
    But I stand guarded, armed with beauty,
    And no evil enters where nine times I have said yes.
    Elisabetta

  • The Castle Of Ghosts

    The Castle Of Ghosts

    The castle of ghosts was the fortress of my fears and anguish.
    The castle of ghosts also held my deepest terrors within its walls.
    It rose majestic and formidable on winter nights of solitude and storm,
    yet stood equally clear on silent, warm summer evenings.
    There was no season in which I could not glimpse it on the horizon—
    Each time I surrendered to my dreams
    and let my subconscious strike my heart,
    unlocking a secret chest filled with arcane mysteries
    and precious jewels.

    The voices I heard were those of malevolent spectres,
    intent on robbing me of my joy and my imagination.
    They sought to annihilate and utterly destroy
    all my dreams and visions—deemed by them mere madness—
    when in truth they were the very essence of my being,
    The essence of my heart, secretly nourishing my fantasies,
    those fantasies brimming with hope and desire,
    With stars and dawns yet to come.

    I could no longer entrust my secrets to any human soul,
    After all the harm had poured upon me like icy rain
    On a tempestuous night,
    while countless daggers and arrows pierced my heart and body—
    as if I were born and destined
    to a life woven with anguish, grief, powerlessness, and wretchedness.

    My heart was entangled in brambles,
    whose sharp thorns made it bleed perpetually,
    draining all the vital, creative energy I harboured within—
    leaving me a bloodless creature,
    devoid of impulses to guide me forward
    Along my dark and uncertain path,
    where every step was like a fragile, slender thread,
    ready to snap under its own frailty.

    Survived invisible storms,
    silent battles no one ever saw,
    I carried within me an armour of ash,
    hardened by time
    between fleeting shadows and light.

    The castle of ghosts was, in truth, the castle of my surviving selves—
    versions forged through countless traumas, abuses,
    and dreadful events that cast down my soul, my heart, and my body,
    to the point where I died many times over,
    only to be reborn as a new person each time.

    And now I had grown accustomed to losing all that I possessed
    only to gain something else—
    Something that would grant me another identity,
    another name,
    and another heart.
    Elisabetta

  • In Desolation And Affliction

    In Desolation And Affliction

    In desolation and affliction, I was left viciously by my wicked fate
    Hopeless and deserted by all my dreams as if I were not worthy of bliss and ecstasy
    Delighted to let my senses abandon every type of wisdom
    I stopped to chase what couldn’t be mine forever
    Hence, all my crimson roses began to wither
    They become obsidian blossoms like the deepest night
    I could only sigh and weep surrounded by the skulls of my memories

    Ancient skulls and black roses all around me
    They became my guardian angels watching me closely
    They were the witnesses of my defeat and decline
    My virtues became my blemishes and I became a demon of myself
    I was a terrifying ghoul of the darkness, hunting dreams and love
    Nevertheless, I wouldn’t be able to catch dreams or love
    Being both of them out of reach for me who I was a simple creature of nightmares

    I even chased my own shadow in vain but I couldn’t find it
    Because I had no shadow and no soil
    My heart was filled with poison and decay
    There was no more space for love and delight
    The perpetual state of grief and misery transformed me into a spirit of dismay
    I embodied sorrow and every teardrop of mine was extinguished
    I had lost everything so dear to me
    I had lost everyone so loved by me
    I had lost myself in obsessions and wickedness

    I had to die several times in order to be born again and again
    How many times have I died?
    I never remembered it because each time my heart embraced death I lost my mind to an amnesia
    Thorns and brambles carved on my body arcane messages of wreckage and doom
    I have felt doomed all life long with no redemption or faded hope
    I was just a ghost of despair and nothing more
    In desolation and affliction, I’ve found my eternal respite and I surrendered to pursue all of my dreams and desires all at once.
    Elisabetta

  • The Tides Of Death

    The Tides Of Death

    The tides of death and despair devour me into their abyss. Intimidated, I let the cold ocean swallow me in its frightening chaos. Humiliation and surrender chained me to the ocean floor; under constraints, I couldn’t escape my doomed fate.

    And I felt nothing, absolutely nothing. So much so that I was devoid of my essence and true self
    In the midst of emptiness, I was the embodiment of decadence and death. Nothing anymore could have hurt me because I was definitely belonging to the realm of demise.

    The tides of death transformed me into a creature of the realm of destruction and nothingness. I was a spirit of the dark abysses and my words were made of absolute silence. Betrayed by my dreams, I realised that I had no hope of staying alive and accepting my end.

    My heart had stopped beating and I was depleted like a withered rose. Nothing could have revived me and so much I strived to hold and cherish my desires, in the desperate endeavour to conquer my feeble spirit. The marine soil trembled under my faint body and opened into a dreadful gorge.

    Terror was the only emotion filling my heart. The distress was so brutal that it tore me apart. All that remained to me was to sing a silent song of desolation and defeat while collapsing under the weight of sorrow. I was all alone in the chasm of darkness and death, and nothing could have saved me.

    The tides of death possessed me and I couldn’t rebel against them. I was like a buried flower, dead before it was supposed to die. No tears rescued me from my deep despair. No slumber could have made me feel better. In that perpetual torpor, I was destined to remain for eternity and beyond.
    Elisabetta

  • Torments Are My Delight

    Torments Are My Delight

    Torments are my delight and bliss
    I love to feel a pang piercing my heart
    I love to pine for love devotionally
    I live only in my dreams like a fairy
    Flying lightly from one flower to another one

    I’m an ethereal creature belonging to phantasmagorias
    I’m a little spirit of the night
    My heart is avid of passions and desires
    In my secret garden of lush and extravagance
    Torments are my solace and mirth

    My fate is a turmoil of unknown chaos
    Not paying attention to my fears
    I live carelessly as every day is my last day
    My senses are intoxicated by the scent of extravagant flowers
    And let my body surrender to lust in my haven of lush

    I wear an exquisite and magnificent gown made of tragedy
    My ethereal wings carry me everywhere I wish
    In sadness, I find refuge under the shadows of ancient trees
    In joy, I relish pursuing my dreams of oddities
    Safety is not my favourite word in the dictionary because I adore nightmares

    Every night, I crave to be consumed by the passion of my darkest fantasies
    In the darkness, I burn with the desire to be pierced by agony
    Gloomy shadows whisper my name, enticing me closer
    As I feel an ecstatic pain, I hesitate to surrender
    I’m so lost in the euphoria of torment’s kiss

    Each sigh of mine is like a melody of forbidden delights
    When pleasure and pain entwine in an endless embrace
    I welcome the darkness as its touches are so exquisite and deep
    I become a creature made of fire and fiery lust
    A blaze burns my heart at every stroke

    Every kiss carves a searing scar of longing on my skin
    As a reminder of the desires consuming me whole
    And in the flames, I’m reborn like a blooming blossom
    Torments are my delight and I surrender to the sweet agony of my lusts.
    Elisabetta

  • Forsaken Dreams

    Forsaken Dreams

    Forsaken dreams lay scattered like leaves on a desolate lawn,
    Beneath the weight of darkness, shadows loomed and sighed.
    A castle crumbled in the grip of despair,
    Fragments of hope were lost and hanging in the void.

    Wandering through silence where visions once soared,
    Stillness wrapped tightly around the forgotten.
    Each step was like drifting through memories frayed,
    As ghosts of ambition haunted paths once laid.

    Forgotten dreams, like stars turned to ash,
    Fleeting glimpses of futures that faded too fast.
    The sounds now muted, cold as stone,
    While shadows enveloped, tales left unknown.

    In a chamber of portraits, their faces half-blurred,
    The dreams of youth, in stillness, unheard.
    Calling from corners of places long lost,
    Whispering gently of the lines once crossed.

    Nonetheless, deep in the stillness, a flicker of pain,
    Forsaken dreams lingered; in shadows, they remained.
    Each one a reminder of battles hard-fought,
    Of fires within that time forgot.

    But hope lay buried, covered in dust,
    From ashes of sorrow, it rose from distrust.
    Gathering fragments, each whisper, each scream,
    In the dark of the night, the lost dream was redeemed.

    Mended the pieces, igniting a spark,
    Reviving the forgotten, illuminating the dark.
    For dreams, though shattered, never entirely die—
    In the heart of the dreamer, they eternally lie.

    Through the mist of despair, a path was found,
    With each heartbeat, shadows chased from the ground.
    Though night still lingered, dawn followed close,
    And in the garden of longing, hope arose.

    With courage reborn, a star now stood,
    Embracing the dawn, the new morning understood.
    In the silence of the night, fate was rewritten,
    For in dreams, belonging is always forgiven.

    Forsaken dreams lingered in the shadows,
    Casting ancient spells to find lost treasures.
    Forgotten mysteries carried the weight of unrealised desires,
    Although beneath the sorrow, a quiet strength stirred,
    Yearning for light once more.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

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