Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: Surrender

  • The Eleventh Gate

    The Eleventh Gate

    The Eleventh Gate stood in the underworld — silent, unmarked.
    I wandered, neither living nor dead,
    Caught between shadows that whispered secrets I could not grasp,
    Searching for meaning in that endless twilight of souls.

    17:17 appeared to me
    While I was confused by the thoughts that crowded my mind
    And darkened my heart,
    Searching and hoping for a way — for a way out —
    Which did not seem obvious,
    Given that I found myself in the labyrinth of death,
    In a world suspended, beneath that of the mortals.

    How I found myself in that world, I think I have remembered it:
    that chariot of skeletons and spectres, of demons from the underworld,
    had overwhelmed me and taken me away
    into their grotesque world of nightmares.

    Monsters adorned in sparse and ancient garments
    wore grotesque masks and stared at me with their dead,
    Yet burning eyes,
    as if they could read my heart,
    and they sneered at my fears and weaknesses,
    and at my ethereal, mortal being.

    I had become a captive of that world, a world of shadows and wraiths.
    Subjugated to their power, I could not resist,
    And my steps grew heavier and heavier,
    as if they echoed the weight of my heart,
    which had become a heap of metal shards and thorns.

    Exhausted and bloodless, I surrendered,
    and no longer felt that languid sense of torpor and melancholy.
    Horror and chills had gripped my entire body,
    And the beating of my heart stopped
    like a broken pendulum clock.

    I crossed the Eleventh Gate, seventeen times seventeen,
    And with each passing, a part of my heart fell
    upon the ground made of bones and carcasses and mud and buried souls.
    And thus it was that I collapsed,
    into a terrible slumber.
    Of death.
    Elisabetta

  • Absolute Despair In The Heart Of The Night

    Absolute Despair In The Heart Of The Night

    Absolute despair in the heart of the night. Struggling, wrapped in the glow of the stars and surrounded by the absolute darkness of the night, in a silence so complete it deafens me and leaves me aghast.

    Caught between a world of dreams and a world of reality in which I cannot find a place, I try to understand my identity, I try to understand what my heart desires, and I try to invent a world where I can live without trauma and without deception.

    Searching for truth in lies and trying to conceal my feelings behind dead trees of complacency. I wander, disoriented, through the labyrinth of my dreams, which sometimes seem nightmares and at other times delightful visions.

    My vanity makes me believe I can attain all that I desire, yet in truth, what I receive is always the opposite of what my heart longs to devour within itself. In vain I invoke the names of the deities of the night, struggling, weeping, and sobbing.

    My voice fades into nothingness, into silence, into the torpor of my restless sleep. It was as if I could almost touch, almost grasp the emptiness with my hands, yet never gather the gems of my yearning.

    Surrounded by the fleetingness of beauty and the decay of my yearning, I let myself go, I let myself go, I surrender completely to my desires, both carnal and spiritual. It is as if a mysticism had engulfed me, rendering my body immaterial.

    Dazzled and dazed by the piercing brightness of the stars, I find myself in an immaterial realm, mystical and dripping with aesthetic lust and paroxysm of beauty.

    I lie in anguish, in the decay of my very own shadow. I am not ashamed to express my wonder, for I regard it as a pure form of admiration and magnificence toward something my heart cannot even grasp.

    Absolute despair in the heart of the night—it was but the fruit of my illusions and hallucinations. Silent, I stood like a marble statue, exposed to the harsh elements of a nocturnal storm.
    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

  • A Doomed Fate

    A Doomed Fate

    A doomed fate had long been sealed,
    A cruel truth that time revealed.
    Each step they took, each choice they made,
    Led them deeper into the shade.

    The stars above, so cold, so bright,
    Watched as they surrendered to the night.
    In every breath, in every sigh,
    They knew that soon they’d have to die.

    The night had deepened, thick with dread,
    A silent pull towards the dead.
    No whispers now, no gentle breeze,
    Only shadows through the trees.

    A doomed fate had followed close,
    Like shadows that refused to go.
    They wandered through the years in vain,
    Bound by chains, they could not break.

    They ran but found no place to hide,
    For doom followed them, ever at their side.
    The hour struck, the time was here,
    And with it came a wave of fear.

    They faced their fate with weary eyes,
    Knowing well, no one survives.
    A breath, a step, a final cry,
    As they laid down their will to die.

    A doomed fate had gripped their soul,
    No freedom left to make them whole.
    No matter how they fought or fled,
    The path led closer to the dead.

    The end was hasty; the night grew cold,
    The weight of fate was so tight, so bold.
    And when at last the dawn did break,
    It found a soul the night did take.

    And in the quiet, still and grey,
    A doomed fate carried them away.
    In the silence, fragments of despair
    Spoke of dreams that hung in the air.

    A doomed fate had been fulfilled,
    No fight remained, no heart to build.
    Their life, now lost, became a tale,
    Of shadows abyssal and winds that wail.

    Each moment stretched, a fragile thread,
    Binding them to the path of dread.
    And when the shadows whispered low,
    They understood what they must forego.

    For fate, once chosen, could not bend,
    A journey with no chance to mend.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Pain And Anguish

    Pain And Anguish

    Pain and anguish blossomed into a sombre dawn,
    When shadows lingered and hope withdrawn,
    And echoes of sorrow became silent and deep,
    In the abyss of grief, secrets were kept.

    A realm awash in tears that flowed like wild rivers,
    Where darkness reigned, and doubts grew,
    Within this bleak, relentless was the night,
    Glimmers of resilience fainted bright.

    Tales of shattered dreams and hearts torn apart,
    Wove a lore of loss, a solemn art,
    Amidst the despair, a sign of defeat and surrender,
    Yearned to pierce through the perpetual night.

    In the depths of desolation, a journey through sorrow,
    Kindling an unextinguished flame of destruction,
    Within the heavy gloom of ashes of despair,
    After the inexorable loss of solaces and grimaces.

    Haunting and heinous memories became hideous ghosts of the imagination,
    Influential in their gloomy and whispering torments,
    Leaving destruction and death behind.

    The aether became thick with the scent of despair,
    As intrusions from the past pierced through the night air,
    Spectral forms weaving a veil of woes,
    In a sky where the stars refused to glow.

    In a sky perpetually painted with a stormy dye,
    The silence was deafening, and the stillness was heavy as arsenic,
    Binding pure love and innocence in an unwavering state.

    In the shadow of sorrow, dreadful glimmers appeared,
    A long-forgotten nightmare as a distant hope,
    Fumbling in the darkness, wicked and frail,
    But enough to whisper that everything was lost.

    Pain and anguish bloomed into scorn and despair,
    During journeys made of infinite trials and unknown foes,
    When obscurity lingered and hope withdrawn,
    Echoes of sorrow became silent and deep,
    In the abyss of grief, secrets were kept.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

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