Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: whispered secrets

  • 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.
    Lisa

  • 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.
    Lisa

  • The Infinite Darkness

    The Infinite Darkness

    The infinite darkness lay within each dream,
    Exquisitely bounding everything in the void,
    Fair enough to reveal secrets and arcana of realms that never existed,
    In the presence of the absolute silence of stars and luminaries.

    The infinite darkness betrayed dreams and nightmares,
    In their foolishness and ignorance,
    Like a tide rising from an unknown moonless sky,
    A silver and purple firmament whole of unlimited fantasies.

    Soundless clouds of dust and light were ignominious omens,
    Betraying delusional dreams and untamed emotions,
    Speculations of innocence and death similarly doomed wishes,
    Shrouded in the mist of uncertainty and regret.

    Blue glimmers of occult fantasies hid beneath illusionary visions of a blurred realm,
    Granted to infinite and limitless imaginations,
    Without questions or answers in the absurdity of the universe,
    Interruption of every beauty and sublimity.

    In the silence of stars’ eternal gleam,
    Shadowed longings of forgotten aspirations beckoned,
    Where phantoms of memories and forgotten desires entwined,
    Draped in the spectral light of a desolate eternity.

    Each whispered secrets with echoes of timeless despair,
    Lingering in the hollowed expanse of a cosmic night,
    Concealing the truth in a veil of endless stars,
    Crafting tales of sorrow, anguish, and eternal despair.

    Within the abyss of this boundless void,
    Ancient spirits weaved their silent magic tales,
    Bounded by threads of sadness and ephemeral delight,
    In the everlasting trance of the infinite dark.

    Unseen delights guided the ethereal blisses,
    Through realms where dreams and reality collided,
    Where every shadow held a promise and every light a lie,
    In the uncharted expanse of the deepest fears and desires.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Unveiled Dreams Of The Night

    The Unveiled Dreams Of The Night

    The unveiled dreams of the night,
    In the imperative silence and desolation,
    Gleamed an ephemeral light,
    Enlightening the vast abyss of nothingness.

    Whispered secrets were soft and slight,
    In shadows cast by starlit constellations,
    A firmament of luminaries, stitched tight,
    Against the cold embrace of emptiness.

    Through veils of time, they faded in flight,
    Their fragile forms defied all limitations,
    With wings of thought, they soared in the emptiness,
    Embracing dawn with ethereal grace and soulful tenderness.

    As morning broke, the dreams disappeared,
    Beyond the reach of mortal contemplation,
    Leaving a trace, a spark, a sight,
    A promise of eternal, boundless bliss.

    Through the realm where fantasies ruled,
    And imagination weaved in seamless manifestation,
    The unveiled dreams of the night, as destiny intended,
    Became the guiding stars of desires.

    In the oblivion where longings were lost,
    They ignited passions of bold determination,
    And from the depths where darkness descended,
    They rose a beacon of illumination.

    At every moment, their essence transcended,
    Through cycles of dreams’ transformation,
    In forbidden mazes where time halted,
    In realms untouched by mortal grasp.

    Across the vast expanse of infinite,
    Where dreams intertwined with illusions,
    They painted the canvas of deception and betrayal,
    In shadows cast by the echoes of their past.

    As promises lingered in the void,
    Tales of mystery and wonder were concealed,
    In the chronicles of fate and death,
    Far from every congenial idea.

    Through hallways of forgotten spheres,
    Where shadows weaved webs of forgotten lore,
    Ancient mysteries lingered in their sombre embrace,
    Time’s relentless march erased their trace.

    In the silent embrace of the eternal dimness,
    The unveiled dreams of the night found solace in their plight,
    Guided by stars of flickering brightness,
    Revealing secrets to the wandering souls in darkness.

    Through unknown games of shadows and light,
    Tales of the night thrived in elusive enigmas,
    Etched in the firmament’s infinite height,
    A symphony played by celestial drifters.

    Beneath the gaze of everlasting flames,
    The dreams, like phantoms, danced with fervour,
    Woven into an invisible maze,
    Until they dissolved like tears in the rain.

    Ethereal sparkles illuminated the void; in their ephemeral space,
    In the midst of the eternal dimness that held no trace,
    The unveiled dreams of the night illuminated the void,
    In their ephemeral space.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

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