Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: shadowed soul

  • The Shadows Of Shame And Madness

    The Shadows Of Shame And Madness

    The shadows of shame and madness spread over me like majestic, silent trees
    While the wind whispered decadent lullabies to my ears during my deep slumber
    I was dreaming and not, since I embodied my illusions in a game of love and hate
    I had even forgotten my name and who I really was becoming
    I tried to see my reflection in the several mirrors I encountered in my dreams
    Each moment I could hold my memories no longer
    I was incredibly erratic and mesmerised, although delighted
    I sensed the scent of deception in my withered flowers, so full of decadence and broken passions

    The shadows of shame and madness darkened my windowless and hopeless abode
    It was as if I had lost the ability to hold on to hopes that had vanished like grains of sand in the wind
    And for the first time, I could see the dark clouds as ominous omens
    I didn’t want to see because of the fear burning in my heart, bleeding for all the lost love
    I had embraced a lugubrious isolation and I had shunned every contact with mortals
    A deafening silence was my way to express myself and my feelings
    Dark shadows had filled my heart with dismay and disdain
    I had ceased to wait for my future tomorrows and I lived in an eternal state of fantasies

    In this realm with no time and orientation, it was like wandering in an endless desert made of dead roses and thorns
    Even the cold rain hit me with its icy drops full of vengeance and scorn
    As I encountered several versions myself dispersed along my path of dark solitude
    The more I knew the truth, the more I wanted to forget
    My only desire was to fly free like a bird among clouds and stars
    I longed so much to disregard all my dismay and distress
    As much as I could forget who I really was, however, I fell deep into the abyss of despair
    And the tears of remorse and regret covered my face like a thick veil of anguish

    I had embodied my own sorrow, and the shadows of shame and madness obscured the sky
    I didn’t see the sun or the moon, and the stars had shunned me
    I had been forsaken by my own wicked fate
    I wandered endlessly to fall in love with my dreams again
    I strove to start again as I was never born
    Although my heart was on fire like an inextinguishable flame, the burden of exhaustion sank me deep down the chasm of impenetrable and mighty darkness
    I had vanished in the emptiness like a withered flower in the stormy wind
    And not even the flowers and trees recalled my name
    As I was never born.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • With A Shadowed Soul

    With A Shadowed Soul

    With a shadowed soul and a heart in pieces,
    I proceeded without direction and without refuge
    In the vast expanse of works of eternal beauty and magnificence,
    In my solitude, misunderstood and isolated,
    shunned for my identity,
    always having to hide like a creature invisible to mortals,
    yet present and alive,
    With a heart burning like an unquenchable flame.

    Deafening noises haunted me,
    And I sought to hide as far away as possible
    In a clearing of unquenchable and precious peace.
    I dodged mortals, I dodged their wicked and illusory souls;
    beings I deemed unworthy even of their glance upon me.

    The thorns of my sorrows pressed into my heart,
    making it bleed.
    It had become like a kind of gigantic sculpture
    that radiated pain and the weight of life,
    But also ardour and passion.

    The envy and jealousy of petty, tainted beings
    left traces of filth and decay
    upon my veil of protection and innocence.
    The sacredness and devotion of my heart
    had been contaminated and defiled
    by their greed and rotting wickedness.

    Their twisted faces bore a grin of satisfaction
    and, at the same time, of bitter corruption,
    to the point that their faces were disfigured
    by sores and deformities,
    as if they had contracted leprosy
    or some terrifying disease.

    My search for untainted love and the sublime had become impossible,
    for the shadows of these monsters,
    whose cruelties towards me were unparalleled and horrific,
    obstructed the view and the landscape
    to the point that I could see no more,
    And the fog filled my eyes,
    And I saw only darkness—
    The vastness of oblivion tried to swallow me.

    By now, the veils of illusion had fallen to the ground,
    And I could see reality as it truly was,
    For those bitter disappointments I was experiencing
    In those very moments of contrition
    had helped me to see those malevolent and dreadful souls
    for what they truly were.

    With a shadowed soul, I remained abashed,
    standing at the edge where hope and despair are mashed.
    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

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