The abyss of desolation and affliction appeared to me in a dream.
I could not tell if it was a hallucination
or some malevolent spirit that had caught me
in the torpor of my nightly slumber.
Spectres appeared to me, agile and winged,
Their claws etched marks upon my skin,
As if to inscribe arcane messages
Beyond my mortal grasp to decode.
The moon shone bright and awe-inspiring above,
An eternal night enveloped all,
Where swirling clouds danced,
A solemn escort to those shadowy phantoms.
Figures cloaked in hidden mantles and hoods,
As if unwilling to reveal their names,
Lay inert along a river—
At times, it was a still pond, and at times, it was a shimmering lagoon.
I felt a weight of oppression and annihilation,
As if all my feelings and desires
Had been obliterated in the presence
Of such a bleak and haunting landscape.
I could not feel joy or enthusiasm
At the very moment I realised
That the slightest hope might be mistaken for illusion,
Denying me the grace to surrender
To my senses, to my subconscious.
I walked with uncertain steps,
So unsteady was the path before me.
No clear horizon met my gaze,
Only shadows stretching into the unknown.
Having firmly shut the doors of the past,
I had renounced all that belonged to that world,
Memories included — or at least I tried to deny them.
Yet certain ghosts of old, like skeletons risen from nightmares,
Pursued me wherever I went,
With steady, relentless steps.
And I, breath held tight,
Sought refuge in that realm of shadowy spirits.
Monsters of a time long lost,
They watched me slyly from their hiding places,
Plotting behind my back a possible attack,
A grasp for power, as if I were a helpless creature,
Ready to fall into their claws.
But truly, I knew well that my heart belonged to myself,
And no one nor nothing could taint it
With their corruption and decay.
Elisabetta
