Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: yearning

  • 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.
    Lisa

  • 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 Pang In My Heart

    A Pang In My Heart

    A pang in my heart is stabbing me like a dagger
    A wild storm initiated an endless turmoil
    Like a ritual of initiation that crumples my soul
    And the obsessive feelings of burning love

    Astonished to have lost the ability to control my senses
    Like a nocturnal butterfly doomed to be burnt to flame
    When she is attracted by the betrayal of an innocent flame
    Lost in the darkness of the night

    My will is enslaved to the lust of my senses
    A treacherous journey in the midst of a tempest
    Bewildered and bewitched by a wonderful stranger
    Only destiny knows what will occur in the ethereal world of my dreams

    A mesmerising enchantment captivates me to never let me free
    Wandering in total obscurity with no direction
    Feeling a fever of anguishes and hopes
    While an incessant rain is falling over me

    Unlock doors let me think about you
    As I would love to be there at that precise moment close to you
    Even in silence while I cannot stop crying
    Because I would love us to be immortal lovers

    Time passes but not my love for you
    Whose name is still unknown in my heart
    I wish you could have been reading these verses
    But I have the certitude that you will never read them

    Sobbing and sighing I open the window of chaos
    Embracing my inner tumult and apathetically breathing as I write
    Is there a chance of meeting someone by destiny?
    I always wonder about the reasons, but never about the surprises of life

    I lost hope and I dismissed myself to let stupor dismay me
    While I cannot stop thinking about you
    While I cannot stop loving you
    Even if I’m just an anonymous neighbour of yours

    I only treasure the spare and casual moments I had encountered you
    In real life and in my dreams
    And never forget about you
    While a pang in my heart stabs me deeply.
    Elisabetta

  • Delusional Expectations

    Delusional Expectations

    Delusional expectations in the midst of the night,
    When the most profound silence enveloped every corner of the realm of reality,
    The solitude ruled the entire realm of arcane and magical dreams.

    Darkness and light were both present in a frolic of magic spells,
    Flowers and trees grew taller every night, relying on desires and deceptions,
    Along the banks of rivers of oblivion.

    Remembrances fell down on cold soil like dead leaves,
    Making the noise of tombstones on forgotten graves,
    Echoes of souls lost in the void,
    Calling from beyond, where time no longer reigned.

    Shadows stretched their domain for every whisper of the wind,
    Dancing beneath a pale, evanescent moon,
    As the night creatures began to sing their silent melody.
    Fate lingered over every sigh and lament,
    As the boundary between dream and death blurred into obliviousness.

    Ephemeral phantoms wandered beneath twisted trees,
    Their hollow gazes fixed upon the distant stars,
    Which no longer offered promises of mirth or hope,
    In fact, they provided only a reflection of their despair.

    The scent of decay drifted through the air,
    A reminder of the countless stories left untold,
    Forgotten by the living and the dead.
    Yet, within this realm, they lingered,
    Bound by the remnants of a magic long since faded.

    In the centre of this spectral realm,
    A lone figure stood amidst the expanding dark,
    Cloaked in glooms, their sights filled with silent yearning.
    They scrutinised the cycle of night’s dominion,
    With no solace in the rising of the dawn.

    The river’s slow current carried away forgotten remembrances,
    Washing them clean of all the pain and sorrow,
    Only to return them once again,
    Draped in the midst of eternity’s frigid embrace.

    Delusional expectations blossomed in this endless twilight, like dreams of deliverance,
    They were no more than other illusions,
    Further delusions wrapped in the silence of the night.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Hollow Nights

    Hollow Nights

    In hollow nights when the stars dared not shine,
    Dreams wandered through hidden mazes, lost in the pine of yearning.
    The aura, full of gloom and despair,
    Bore witness to nightmares that haunted every tear.

    The moon, a mere phantom, cast shadows so pale,
    Illuminated paths where memories wailed.
    Each rustle of leaves echoed tales of the past,
    Of elation that lingered, of joy that would not last.

    I trod lightly on secret spells, each tale hid behind a soft sigh,
    In the silence that wrapped me, I could only comply.
    The darkness embraced me, a cloak worn so tight,
    As I was lost through the remnants of a once-bright night.

    The trees stood like sentinels, guarding the pain,
    Of lovers long lost and the tears that remained.
    Their branches, like fingers, reached out to the moon,
    As if begging for solace, a fleeting tune.

    In the heart of the night, where shadows conspired,
    I sought out the devotion of a long-dead fire.
    But the embers lay cold, buried under the frost,
    A reminder of passion, of the love that was lost.

    And yet, in this hollow, a strange harmony I found,
    In the stillness that lingered, a gentle, soothing sound.
    Since the hollow nights were filled with the past,
    A labyrinth made of memories gathered.

    So I wandered through Twilight, embraced by the night,
    In the hollow of silence, my dreams faded under invisible clouds,
    Each gust of wind was a ghost of delight,
    In the desolate nights where the stars dared not shine.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Garden of Nightmares

    The Garden of Nightmares

    The garden of nightmares was a wonder in the realm of fantasy,
    None could have touched the flowers of such an enchanting garden,
    Full of magic spells and arcane secrets.

    So oftentimes, it was the obsession of dreamers,
    Those who were aware of the potential dangers of such a magical place,
    Where thorns were welcome, and no scent would perfume its aura.

    Echoes of choirs singing ancient melodies revived that realm,
    A world that existed only in the imagination of the subconscious,
    A lonely and distant kingdom of beauty and torment.

    Not safe was incautiously confiding dark secrets in this hidden alcove,
    A garden whose meadows and trees were rooted in deception and betrayal,
    Leaving to luring desires the task of enchantment among luscious flowers.

    The garden of nightmares was a wonder in the realm of fantasy,
    None could have touched the flowers of such an enchanting garden,
    Full of magic spells and arcane secrets.

    So oftentimes, it was the obsession of dreamers,
    Those who were aware of the potential dangers of such a magical place,
    Where thorns were welcome, and no scent would perfume its aura.

    Echoes of choirs singing ancient melodies revived that realm,
    A world that existed only in the imagination of the subconscious,
    A lonely and distant kingdom of beauty and torment.

    Not safe was incautiously confiding dark secrets in this hidden alcove,
    A garden whose meadows and trees were rooted in deception and betrayal,
    Leaving to luring desires the task of enchantment among luscious flowers.

    In the garden of nightmares, each petal whispered secrets, wrapped in shadows’ embrace,
    While the moonlight danced softly, casting dreams on the night sky,
    In this garden, silence sang, a melody bittersweet.

    Where the vibrant hues of joy clashed with sorrow’s deceit,
    The aura was loaded with nostalgia; each whisper was a haunting sigh,
    Dreamers wandered through the maze, drawn to what might lie.

    Beneath the surface of beauty, where the heartbeats echoed slowly,
    A realm of contrasts, light and dark, where both delight and anguish grew,
    Yet, amidst the splendour, a red flag lingered near.

    For the siren call of yearning masked the lurking fear,
    Every bloom bore witness to a soul’s forsaken plight,
    Trapped within a labyrinth, lost between day and night.

    In the garden of nightmares, some dared to linger, intoxicated by the view,
    Chasing visions of a paradise where fantasies come true,
    But the thorns they had ignored drew blood from tender dreams.

    And this orchard of phantoms revealed its silent screams,
    Thus, tread lightly in the dusk where wishes intertwine,
    For within that haunting beauty lies a truth so hard to find.

    The garden, a mirror reflecting one’s innermost desires,
    A sanctuary of longings still set ablaze with fire.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Lost Desires

    Lost Desires

    In the chamber, dust collects on dreams,
    Lost desires whisper through the seams.
    Love letters yellowed with time,
    Words once fervent now seem like a crime.

    Fading photographs on the wall,
    Captured moments where shadows fall.
    Once vibrant hopes, now ghostly shades,
    Mirrors of deception cast enigmatic spells.

    A wilted rose waits in a forgotten vase,
    Each petal is a token of a vanished grace.
    Promises whispered beneath the moon,
    Now drift like leaves, a sorrowful tune.

    The clock chimes softly, a distant sound,
    Reminders of dreams buried underground.
    Longings linger like phantom’s sighs,
    What was lost cannot be denied.

    In the mirror’s reflection, a vacant stare,
    Lost desires haunt, a weight hard to bear.
    The heart aches for what might have been,
    For love unfulfilled, trapped in between.

    In empty passageways, the shadows play,
    Reminders of what slipped away.
    Conversations linger in the air,
    While silence echoes, a vacant glare.

    The fireplace crackles, its warmth long gone,
    Remembrances flicker like the break of dawn.
    Once shared moments, now bittersweet tales,
    As wandering through the halls of defeat.

    With every tear, a wish dissolves,
    In the abyss of sorrow, the heart twists.
    However, still, mortals chase those fading lights,
    In the hollow dark of endless nights.

    Lost desires bind like invisible chains,
    Each yearning whisper amplifies the pain.
    Finally, in the stillness, there lies a spark of darkness,
    A flicker of dismay lights up the eternity.

    Every heart mourns what’s lost to time,
    In the forsaken lore of lost desires,
    Among mysterious myths of love and longing,
    Forever undisclosed.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Forsaken Lighthouse

    The Forsaken Lighthouse

    The forsaken lighthouse stood on a cliff,
    Where waves crashed below, and cold winds blew,
    Its beacon, once a guiding light,
    Now darkened by eternal night.

    The keeper’s ghost walked the stairs,
    His heart was a web of deep despairs,
    With each step, his sorrow increased,
    In the lighthouse, where no light glimmered.

    His love was lost to the sea’s embrace,
    A tragic time that could not have been erased,
    He waited for her on stormy nights,
    In shadows deep, beneath moonlight.

    The foghorn moans, a mournful sound,
    A cry for souls lost and unfound,
    The sea whispered tales of woe,
    Of lives claimed by its undertow.

    The lantern room, a silent tomb,
    Where once a flame cut through the gloom,
    Now dark and cold, it held his pain,
    In every drop of sorrow’s rain.

    He tended a lamp that never burned,
    In endless nights, his spirit yearned,
    For a return, a hopeless dream,
    In the lighthouse, where shadows screamed.

    The waves crashed hard against the rock,
    Their fury met with silent shock,
    His ghostly formed, a shade of silver,
    A heart that’s lost, a soul in the fray.

    The seagulls cried, a haunting plea,
    Above the dark, relentless sea,
    Their wings a blur against the sky,
    In mournful flight, they, too, must have died.

    The forsaken lighthouse lost forever its beacon’s glow,
    Besotted by the sorrow that ruled infamously,
    For in that tower, shadows dwelled,
    Of love lost to the ocean’s swell.

    Beneath the stars, his vigil kept,
    As tides rose high and darkness crept,
    The ghostly keeper, bound by fate,
    In sorrow’s grasp, he’d always have to wait.

    A presence in the mist so pale,
    A love-lorn ghost, a mournful tale,
    The forsaken lighthouse stood as a monument,
    To love and loss, forever spent,
    An unextinguished flame to the broken-hearted lost in the gale.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

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