A shallow melancholy caught me in the labyrinth of torment and insomnia. My heart was pierced and disheartened by senseless whirlwinds of despair and anguish. I didn’t know where I was headed, but I could only feel a tremendous intimidation inside myself. A vast, gloomy shadow couldn’t allow me to see beyond the horizon. I had no destination, and it seemed that I had no free choice to escape from that doomed fate of mine. The haze was so dense, and the night was so dark that I couldn’t find any portal to allow me to leave. I screamed to the stars, but they refused to listen to my voice, and I was cast away from their gaze for eternity. The everlasting darkness granted me the utmost agony, and sorrow lulled me to a deadly slumber. So much I cherished my dreams, nevertheless, they vanished into the ashes of decay. Solitude and loneliness had spellbound me with their sombre and mournful enchantment. In a mystic aura, I was viscously bound to a magical realm of lost spirits and wicked wraiths, which whispered their laments to my ears. I knew not who I had become and what my name was. So much confused and chaotic was the state of my heart that it sank deeply into the abyss of devastation. I fell into ecstasy and bliss, enjoying my obliteration and every cut inflicted upon my body. Wounded and frantic, I shed tears of pleasure and delight. My sobs and sighs broke the solemn silence that was my most loyal companion in that kingdom of death and mortification. Frenzy squished me, and madness shattered my heart. I embraced the bitter emptiness, hovering like an ethereal creature in search of witchy dungeons and secret forests. And there were no beginnings nor ends in the domain of the shallow melancholy. I remained suspended from ropes, which led me into my perpetual descent. And I lay there, claimed by the hereafter.
Elisabetta Esther
Tag: wraiths
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A Shallow Melancholy
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The Garden Of Oblivion
The garden of oblivion became my secret hideaway, where I could fall into total despair, crying out all my disillusionments. A garden of frozen flowers and broken mirrors unfolded before me. Fragments of broken mirrors sliced my heart into bleeding shards, which the moonlight illuminated with all its grace.
I was a forsaken creature lost in my trail of lost passions and abandoned to my loneliness. I wandered like a dead soul without any aim to survive since I had lost all my treasures and nothing more was important to cherish. So, cast away from the other worlds, I sought haven in this surreal realm of my own invention.
Love was a perfect stranger to me since my past existences, when utopian trees and flowers surrounded me all the time with their intoxicating scents and bright colours, leaving sweet caresses in my heart. In this age of shadows, I have become just a relic of myself.
Lost in labyrinths inhabited by ghosts and wraiths who never hesitated to grab me with their claws sharp as merciless daggers. My madness grew each night quickly, as soon as I could stare into the gloomy emptiness of the ocean and scream at it with all my feral fury.
Wandering infinitely among shards of broken mirrors and withered flowers, in the realm of shadows and dismay, was all that remained to me. I was a part of that world of doom and oblivion, although all that I desired was to be in an idyllic kingdom of delights and sparkling luminaries.
The garden of oblivion possessed me like one of its creatures, having lost my heart, which had disappeared into the abyss of death, while I cried tears made of blood and sorrow. My tragic fate had deprived me of everything, and no longing was evermore granted to me.
Elisabetta Esther -
Sparkles Of Sadness
Sparkles of sadness manifested in the gloomy forest of my dreams. Lulled by a torpor of defeat and annihilation, I attempted to traverse a place unknown to me, with astonishment and wonder, yet, at the same time, with a heart steeped in sadness.
Although the silver moon illuminated this unknown and dark forest, the further I proceeded, the more it seemed that I was losing myself in oblivion and in the abyss of my fears and uncertainties, for it was there that I was rooted; my heart was torn by a sense of suspension into the void.
Indeed, I was overwhelmed by my nightmares, which slowly revealed themselves in the shapes of ghosts and wraiths, as I proceeded along my uncertain path without a clear destination. My gentle pains, which scourged my heart and disturbed my mind, rendered me powerless in the face of such apparitions.
Even unwillingly, I had fallen victim to a vicious and infamous game of which I was not the author. And I could not even, powerless as I was, awaken from that deadly torpor, which was destroying me every night, as the wind consumes even the most unyielding rock.
However much I struggled to oppose the oblivion that sought to annihilate me and erase my name, I could find no hold, no aid that might pull me out of that condition of misery and decay. My heart was lacerated and bled all my hopes like a raging cascade.
Suffering and pain were the only faithful companions that followed me everywhere. In this realm of sepulchral silence and sighs of souls that could find no peace, I remained still, awaiting my demise.
Bloodless, exhausted, I could no longer proceed and I fell beneath the weight of my own anguish, as if it were made of gigantic, menacing clouds bearing down upon me. And thus I vanished, leaving nothing but a trail of sparkles of sadness and blood, as if I had never been born, as if no one had ever known that I had existed.
Elisabetta Esther -
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 -
Mirrors And Dreams
Mirrors and dreams appeared to me as I drank from the inception of the stormy night, where silence curdled into ink, and every word I swallowed appeared as a curse in my blood.
The moon kissed my shadow, not with clemency but with remembrance. What I lost I buried in decay. What I loved I burned in darkness. Mirrors and dreams were just mere illusions.
Silent visions visited me in my eternal nightmares as I never awakened from that realm of madness and phantasmagoria. In loneliness and unconsciousness, I wandered into the garden of desires.
Untruthful chimaeras were my chaperones as I delighted myself in ethereal merriments and beauty. I lived in delusional fantasies as I forgot the feeling of fear.
I only existed in poems and hymns to share my love and obsessions. Softly, the nocturnal breeze stroked my face, and I could hear a solemn and funereal melody.
I felt invisible and ethereal, as if no mortal could have been able to perceive my presence. Indeed, I had become a spirit of the darkness; I was the shadow of my soul.
Although my everlasting passion for the sublime and beauty never left my heart, I felt the aches and pangs of a withered flowered. Seeking stability in my rooted insanity, I had renounced the world of reality forever.
The heartless fate had decided its decree to condemn me to the underworld and abandon every vestige of my past existence. Surrounded by mirrors and dreams, I surrendered to my hallucinations.
The wraiths that chased me were the evocations of my terrible memories. They strived to cast a spell on me to constrain me in the dungeon of death and blood. Where no tree and no flower ever saw life.
No mirror could recall me, no dream dared claim me.
Elisabetta -
Evanescent Chimaeras
Evanescent chimaeras were fragile,
Like sand castles destroyed by violent tides,
In the darkness of the night,
Beneath a starless night sky.Lores of lost longings were engraved,
On every dead leaf intoxicated by the blizzard.
Fragments of ancient sorrow lingered,
Frozen in the gusts of a restless wind.Shadows stretched like fractured dreams,
And the moon hid behind a veil of despair.
Broken mirrors reflected hollow trees,
Where ephemeral wraiths appeared and faded.Their mournful cries dissolved in silence,
Carried away to oblivion’s edge.
Serpentine branches clawed at the void,
Yearning for passions that they had never known.While flowers shuddered in the frozen earth,
Guarding secrets buried deep and cold.
The realm was endowed with the burden of grief,
Each sigh was a flake of a dying flame.Evanescent chimaeras became crystal gems,
Sparkling in the night’s relentless embrace.
A dance of glares and glooms unfolded to disquiet the nighttime,
In a subliminal fantasy of folly and beauty.Time seemed to wither away,
And every sigh was a dreadful lamentation.
The sky, an ink-stained canvas torn asunder,
Seemed to bleed darkness from unseen wounds.Stars were but distant memories, fading,
Like whispers of lost souls slipping into voids.
Wails echoed through the cold stillness,
Like ghostly hymns sung for a dying world.Mournful notes wrapped around this realm,
Magic disintegrations obliterated every little light that remained.
Phantoms wandered aimlessly through the haze,
Their translucent forms trembled in the cold.They traced forgotten paths along the dusk,
In search of places that no longer existed.
In the chasm of that haunted silence,
Evanescent chimaeras turned to dust once more,
Scattered by the wind, forever vanished.Their fleeting dance was a requiem for the lost,
An elegy woven into the night’s black shroud.
And as the reality slowly succumbed to oblivion,
Only despair and sorrow remained.
Esther Elizabeth Racah -
Bleeding Flowers
Bleeding flowers bloomed in the garden of decay,
Where the soil was soaked in blood and tears,
Obscene dreams were made of darkness and despair,
Surrounded by the scent of indecent nightmares.A storm of horror and darkness overwhelmed the garden,
A blast of fragments of fear tormented the bleeding flowers,
Under the distress of obsession and madness,
Leaving crystals to shine bright only in the dreams of delusional romantics.Beneath the twisted branches of hollow trees, shadows danced in dread,
Laments of forgotten souls stirred the stagnant air,
The stars could not glow anymore, as phantom’s ghostly stares,
Ropes made of spider webs were woven through the madness, a night beyond decency.In this surreal realm where nothing pure remained,
Lovers’ vows were buried deep in graves of dust and sand,
The bleeding flowers wilted, bound by cursed chains,
In a world consumed by rot and broken trust.Some delusional hearts still dared to hope,
Being beauty still ruling in those nightmares, fleeting delusional visions,
The garden bound them in its deadly scope,
Its embrace was an eternal, cold, and empty trap.Bleeding flowers with crimson petals and leaves,
Their thorns were long and sharp, ready to hurt those admirers of their beauty,
With their invisible grimaces, these ethereal blossoms pierced
Feeding themselves with blood and tears.Gone desires were just doomed memories of delightful instants,
Doom and decay fed the garden of dilapidation,
A hopeless existence was the life of dead trees and bleeding flowers,
Not anymore could have been rescued from that eternal doom.Not even wraiths, not even phantoms, were able to wander in that terrible garden,
The garden of beauty and blood where the most dreadful agony ruled supreme,
And time stroke each second like a spasm of agony.
An endless nightmare of abhorrent darkness.
Esther Elizabeth Racah -
The Eerie Mirage
The eerie mirage appeared on a moonlit night,
An illusion born of darkness and dreams,
Where reality frayed at the seams,
Revealing shadows that swirled with fright.It shimmered through the midnight mist,
Dancing figures hid behind dark clouds,
Elusive shapes in spectral form,
Moved through the eerie, spectral storm.The eerie mirage had glided across the shadowed land,
A transcendental waltz, both feeble and grand,
Its ethereal light had cast a spectral glow,
Disclosing secrets that the night would know.Eerie mirages of an era bygone merged with the darkness,
Shadows wandered,
Faint apparitions of a vanished time,
Drifted beneath the obsidian sky.Memories of remote realms had merged,
With the mirage’s haunting allure,
Phantoms had tilted through the misty haze,
Lost in a dreamlike, spectral maze.The moon’s cold light, a silvery hue,
Bathed the mirage in an ethereal view,
A reflection of the past’s embrace,
In every shimmering, fleeting trace.Mysteries of ancient, untold tales,
Had been dragged by the midnight gales,
Breathing life into the spectral scene,
Where illusions had vanished, both delightful and obscene.In that eerie mirage, the past had altered,
With glooms that would never end,
Wraiths belonging to eternal nights,
Caught between the dark and light.The eerie mirage, a transient ghostly essence,
Had cast its spell in the realm of death,
A vision of what could never exist,
In the haunting depths of arcane dreams.As dawn approached, the mirage waned,
Its spectral shapes, now faint and strained,
Had remained echoes of its ghastly flight,
In the stillness of the night.The supernatural illusion disappeared,
As a fading whisper and a distant spell,
Dwelling only in memory’s misty veil,
The eerie mirage did prevail.
Esther Elizabeth Racah -
The Living Secret
The living secret lay in the heart of an ancient wood,
Where shadows whispered, and wind brooded,
A secret lived, long kept in the gloom,
Breathing within the forest’s tombs.Whispers of sorrow filled the air,
Ghostly figures, pale and fair,
Guarded the tale of dreams and dread,
Bound to secrets, never dead.Moonlight seeped through twisted trees,
Casting shadows, eerie frieze,
Where the past and present met,
A haunting dance, silent yet fleet.In the stillness of the night,
A lantern’s glowed, pale and slight,
And revealed the secret, living still,
Hidden in the vale and hill.Once a love, now turned to woe,
In whispers, its sorrow flowed,
Bound by fate and time’s cruel hand,
A tale that none could understand.Caution was required for those who dared,
For the living secret lingered there,
In the heart of the ancient wood,
Where shadows whispered, and wind brooded.Beyond the veil, shadows lingered,
Reaching out with ghostly touches,
Eyes like embers, burning bright,
Glimmering beacon in the endless night.They waited for those who would break the chain,
To lift the curse, to end the pain,
But none returned from whence they went,
Lost to the secret’s chilling glow.A melody, both sweet and sad,
Echoed through the glade, so bad,
Alluring those whose desires belonged,
To join the wraiths where they indulged.Treacherous was the path that led too far,
Where night concealed the morning star,
For in the dark, the secret lay,
Living in the mournful cries.Ancient trees with twisted limbs,
Hid the faces, grim and dim,
Of souls that wandered, lost and cold,
In search of peace, they never told.Through the mist, a whisper called,
From forgotten, crumbling halls,
Where the living secret bided its time,
A tale spun from sorrow’s rhyme.No warning could have saved the brave and bold,
Of secrets ancient, dark, and old,
For in the heart of shadowed wood,
A living secret quietly stood.
Esther Elizabeth Racah -
The Dreaded Abyss
The dreaded abyss was hidden beyond the veil where daylight had faded,
An obscure realm where terror had paraded,
A chasm deep and cold as stone,
Where shadows had draped and wraiths had grown.The abyss, a maw of ancient gloom,
Had swallowed echoes of forgotten doom,
Its depths had been a crypt where nightmares had crept,
And silent ghosts had kept their vigils.The darkness there had been thick and dense,
A realm where hope had been lost and forsaken,
Where light and sound had been swallowed whole,
And emptiness had consumed every dream and longing.In that abyss, no light could pierce,
No voice could break the sombre curse,
For in the maw of time’s decay,
The spirits of despair had played.The air had been charged with dread and fear,
As phantoms of the lost had drawn near,
Their whispers had lingered, dark and cold,
A feast and doom full of tales untold.The shadows had danced in endless woe,
Where fear and darkness had ebbed and flowed,
And those evanescent entities who had ventured to that place,
Had found themselves trapped in a dark embrace.No mortal form could have stood the strain,
Of darkness, thick and chilling pain,
For in the void where horror had reigned,
The abyss had forever chained.And in the silence, deep and infinite,
The relics of the past had been cast,
A chilling reminder of the dread,
That had haunted the depths where spirits had tread.The echoes of the past had been a haunting song,
A lament of despair that was a nightmare,
With each passing moment, the fear had grown,
As the dreaded abyss had claimed what was once known.In shadows deep, where whispers had wept,
The memories of lost souls had quietly slumbered,
Their stories entwined with the darkness profound,
In the dreaded abyss where eternal phobias had been found.
Esther Elizabeth Racah