Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: solitude

  • Castaway’s Desires

    Castaway’s Desires

    Castaway’s desires enticed me in the long winter nights, when the frozen branches of hollow trees caressed me softly, as they needed to approach my body.

    The scent of burning candles devoured my enthusiasm and reminded me only of my hopeless misery. An everlasting burning desire swallowed my heart greedily like an invisible demon.

    My insensitive inertia cut my soul into pieces and I let the devastation take advantage of me. I was born to be obliterated and perish an infinite times in endless ways.

    Frenzy and turmoil were my loyal guides like flaming torches in the deepest darkness, and they fed me with their improper wisdom. I felt alive only because I embodied the distress that consumed me, leaving me in ashes.

    Indeed, it was true that scorching passion sometimes might have let me fall in love with things that destroyed, but it was what penetrated every part of me.

    I was made of fire and ashes surrounded by the cold mist of my dark chamber where dimly lit candles were my only merriment.

    The sweet screams of the night recalled to me who I really was. Obsession carved my vein instilling a tainted poison instead of blood. I became a creature of the realm of shadows and wraiths.

    I was consumed by my own fantasies and paranoid hallucinations. I had become the queen of madness among my lost memories of worlds to which I once belonged.

    No mortal entity could see me because I was visible only to creatures of my own. There was no transformation in my staticity.

    I could perceive the manifestation of my own tempest, like a tiny vessel in a stormy sea. Lost in the labyrinth of my dreams and dread, I was unable to discover the existence beyond time.

    The great mystery of seeking my reflection in the immense mirror of life made me realise my nothingness. There was no end and there was no beginning but merely a vague silence clinging to me like luscious ivy.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • 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

  • The Night

    The Night

    The night opens my heart, made of tragedies and memories. Silence remains merely an echo of my anguish.

    Sweet is the thought of losing oneself in dreams when they become eternal whispers. The subtle play of revelations and allusions is a gentle kiss of love and passion that time does not disturb.

    Light and shadow merge into one another, in an absolute love. The flames of the heart feed on the solitude of the soul beneath the starlight that no longer shines to illuminate, but to recall lost memories.

    Endless games between illusion and wonder hide in the darkness of light. My sorrowful and shadowed heart has fallen into the chaos of eternal torpor.

    I am a volcano of fire and chaos, surrounded by shadows of anguish and restlessness. My guardians are magical crows and silent hares.

    In my solitude, melancholy and confusion are my faithful spectres that never abandon me.

    Drowsy and dazed, I find refuge in my silent torpor: the distorted mirrors are the signs of my resignation.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • La Notte

    La Notte

    La notte apre il mio cuore fatto di tragedie e ricordi. Il silenzio rimane solamente un’eco delle mie angosce.

    Soave è il pensiero di perdersi nei sogni quando essi diventano eterni sussurri. Il gioco sottile di rivelazioni e allusioni è un soave bacio d’amore e di passione che il tempo non perturba.

    Luce e ombra si fondono l’una nell’altra, in un amore assoluto. Le fiamme del cuore si nutrono della solitudine dell’anima sotto la luce delle stelle che non brillano più per illuminare ma per ricordare le memorie perdute.

    I giochi infiniti tra illusione e meraviglia si nascondono nell’oscurità della luce. Il mio cuore triste e adombrato è caduto nel caos di un torpore eterno.

    Sono un vulcano di fuoco e caos, circondata da ombre di angosce e inquietudini. I miei guardiani sono corvi magici e lepri silenti.

    Nella mia solitudine, la malinconia e la confusione sono i miei spettri fedeli che non mi abbandonano mai.

    Assopita e stordita, trovo rifugio nel mio torpore silente: gli specchi deformati sono i segni della mia rassegnazione.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • The Kingdom Of Paradoxes And Absurdities

    The Kingdom Of Paradoxes And Absurdities

    The kingdom of paradoxes and absurdities was the place where bullying and arrogance reigned supreme, sovereign over vulgarity and stupidity. They wallpapered the walls of every place that held court in such a realm.

    Anything that could be imagined was both unreal and real at the same time. It could exist or not exist. Absurdity, however, was the master of the place. Thus, everything my logic deemed possible was tangible and predictable. In truth, it could neither take place nor be actualised in such sovereignty.

    I cannot say that I was dreaming, nor can I say that I was awake. In a state of shock and surrender of my ego, I could no longer even discern whether I was daydreaming or hallucinating. All I could say was what my sensations and perceptions made me feel in every part of my soul and heart, in every part of my body.

    Although I had firmly decided not to bend to the will of others, not to bow down or worship the conventions imposed on me persistently, I fell into a deadly trap—a kind of imprisonment, a state of captivity from which I could not free myself. Invisible chains that I felt and perceived in my body and heart held dominion over my life and my way of thinking.

    My jewellery box had been plundered. All my secrets had been revealed by indiscreet tongues. And my protection had vanished. It was as if I had become a defenceless flower in the midst of a threatening desert.

    I had to say goodbye to my version of myself, which was no longer alive. I had to say goodbye to all those visions that had deceived me falsely, when my naivety clouded my sight.

    In the kingdom of paradoxes and absurdities, I had to succumb and suffer. I had nowhere else to go. And the more I tried to escape, the more it seemed that this strange land expanded beneath my feet, preventing me from crossing its high and menacing walls. And what could the sky do but watch me, almost mocking me in an indifferent and cynical manner.
    Elisabetta

  • Dreams Of Oblivion

    Dreams Of Oblivion

    Dreams of oblivion darkened my sleep.
    They were like palliatives for my searing pain,
    numbing my heart and soothing—
    If only for a moment—
    My spasms of fear.

    My disappointments had become like cobwebs woven inside my heart,
    darkening every joy, even the smallest.
    Ultimately, I had not chosen my fate,
    and I groped in the dark uncertainty,
    trying to understand where I was and who I was.

    The disdain and aloofness that oozed from the faces of mortals who had crossed my miserable existence
    had transformed me into a silent, sombre shadow
    whose image did not appear in any mirror.

    In my dreams of oblivion and madness, mediocre monsters that sought to tear me apart
    appeared menacingly in the realm I tried to protect and keep as mine.
    Their intrusion was truly an act of violence.
    Their intent to destroy me was the source of my fears.

    Ancient dusty clocks tolled the time, which always seemed the same.
    The dust of decay and sorrow fell upon me like a heavy rain,
    covering me completely and turning me into an invisible shell.

    Watchful and evanescent veils covered me, so as not to show me the harsh reality whose injustice and squalor could have tainted the integrity of my heart. And my attempt to awaken from that stupor mixed with despair was in vain.

    I was about to become oblivion.
    I was about to become my dreams.
    I was about to become an ephemeral, evanescent creature,
    almost invisible and nonexistent,
    that no mortal of the common reality
    could have seen with their limited gaze
    shrouded in prejudice.
    I was about to become an ephemeral, evanescent creature,
    almost invisible and nonexistent,
    that no mortal of the common reality
    could have seen with their limited gaze
    shrouded in prejudice.

    Perhaps I myself was an illusion,
    perhaps I had become a utopia or a chimaera.
    The devastating pain had transformed me
    and erased every trace of my mortality.
    Elisabetta

  • 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 Vault Of Forsaken Keys

    The Vault Of Forsaken Keys

    The vault of forsaken keys was the place of shadows and mysteries, of wisdom and madness, and where the keys of all the world, beyond the earthly and the earthly, were kept. It is not known to what or to whom they belonged, yet they seemed to guard secrets that no one could know.

    As dark and gloomy as this cavern of fantasy and greed might seem, of recession and generosity, it had a particular charm, a sobriety so composed that it impressed me for the order and at the same time the madness that hovered in those ancient and decrepit halls.

    The scent of incense and ancient metal impregnated the air, which was coloured by semi-shadows, by metallic reflections that the shadows cast upon the walls.

    The endless and long corridors spread out into an infinite labyrinth impossible to decipher. Without being able to find an exact direction. But one constant thing was the vision of a light like a perpetual faint glow at the end of these corridors. And the more I proceeded, the more I found no end. It was as if I had remained trapped in that underground and undefined place from which I was certain I could no longer escape. Because in fact there was no way out. And I was destined to become one of the countless and anonymous metal keys arranged on the walls.

    My freedom had been devoured by that unnamed and unfindable place. My troubles and cries were worth nothing, I only lost my breath. It was as if gradually I was losing the faculty to perceive my breath. And it was as if I was transforming into something else.

    I never knew if I was dreaming. I never knew if I was a common mortal, a being born on a planet. Or, instead, I was the fruit of my own imagination and I do not know what I was, what I had originated from. I too felt like one of those countless keys, in that vault of forsaken keys.
    Elisabetta

  • The Arcane Forest

    The Arcane Forest

    The arcane forest was my place of refuge. It oozed with enchantments, and the trees did not possess a name. It was a place where I became invisible and mortal while still retaining my physical form.

    Softly, the wind whispered to me its hidden secrets, but I could not grasp their meaning. Such was my daze.

    The large clouds were gathering under a grey tone, and all the shades of white contrasted with the blue of the sky. The sound of the streams was like a melody which, however, had a gloomy and at times sinister sound. As if it reflected the image of my heart.

    Lost in my anguish and obsessive thoughts, I was seeking direction in that vast green and dark expanse, although the sun showed its light from time to time. I was lost in the chaos, in the noises that at times followed me relentlessly and at other times vanished into nothingness.

    The trees seemed to move, at times, and at other times they seemed almost dead, shrivelled, as if without vital infamy. But the mystery of that place was unusual and unexplainable. It seemed like a place of my imagination, which did not exist at all in tangible reality.

    In my wandering, it seemed that my shadow no longer followed me, but rather that other shadows not belonging to me had followed my path, as if curious about what I intended to do or where I was going. I was walking without direction and without any goal of finding myself or of finding the right destination.

    It was as if those shadows sighed, or wanted to whisper something to me — hidden truths, sealed secrets, confessions too indecent to be revealed to human ears, or too regal to deserve a particular listening. The trees seemed to encircle an arcane mark, or what seemed like the mark of death, or of the cavern, or the portal through which one might enter another world, a world not reserved for mortals and common souls.

    The arcane forest was my place of solitude alone, but also the place to which I truly belonged. No longer being part of the earthly world, of the world of mortals, of that realm I had tried to possess and understand, but which I then refused to belong to.
    Elisabetta

  • Beneath The Ocean Vault

    Beneath The Ocean Vault

    Beneath the ocean vault, there was a secret place
    where the hidden truths and the most recondite secrets had been buried.
    Among ruins covered by coral and algae
    and a rather unsettling expanse of swirling water.
    It was there that the crypt under the ocean lay,
    as if the sea had been its roof and also its home.
    Mine was a simple vision,
    it may be that I was dreaming,
    it may be that I was having these hallucinations.
    I only know that it was not the fruit of a conscious and calculated imagination.
    It seemed that I had abandoned myself
    to the sound of the stormy waves on an autumn evening.
    When the faint light of the sky merged with the water of the ocean
    until merged as one unity.

    I closed my eyes and I abandoned myself to my imaginative madness,
    And I saw with even more clarity that marvellous and fantastical landscape
    which did not belong to me,
    But which in some way symbolised something of my past or of my future,
    because I, in the end, lived in the past and the future.
    My present was in oblivion.

    Beneath the ocean vault, my dreams had ceased to whisper visions and desires. In their place remained nightmares that drew their fantasies from bitter disappointments and atrocious memories. And it was in this labyrinth of water and darkness that I found myself entwined, clutched as if unbound by invisible chains.

    I found myself in an oceanic crypt where the sea creatures had turned into ghosts, hunting me like prey and a victim of their tortures and torments. My invocation to the cruel fate of a possible change, where I might have grasped a flower of hope, was to no avail. In the endless and vast infinite.
    Elisabetta

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