The abyss beckons,
In a desolate, forsaken grove,
Where ancient trees in whispers rove,
A doorway to the void appears,
A portal wrought of shadows’ tears.
The mist becomes a thick veil, a stifling pall,
As darkness wraps around it all,
An unseen grasp extends its grip,
A chilling, spectral spasm.
Through an invisible gate, a void calls out,
In haunting whispers laced with doubt,
It beckons those who dare to tread,
Beyond the realms of mortal dread.
A black cloud stands on the brink,
Where sanity and madness link,
Its glance reflects a shattered mind,
A spirit to shadows now consigned.
The void’s soft murmur pleads,
To come forth and surrender to the imaginary,
Embracing the night, letting shadows claim,
The essence of an immortal flame.
With trembling hesitation, dreams fly,
Across the threshold, darkness proves,
A journey through the void begins,
Where silence reigns and night never thins.
In this abyss, all senses distort,
Reality itself contorts,
No light, no sound, no time, no space,
Just endless dark, an endless chase.
And yet, within this void so vast,
Lie memories of forgotten past,
Of nightmares that wandered, lost their way,
And now in shadows’ grasp must stay.
A soundless shriek emerges from the gloom,
A lament from the timeless tomb,
Fearing not the dark, for it is kin,
To every longing that dwells within.
As silence falls, fantasies fade,
Consumed by dark, by shadows’ shades,
An echo of a hope once bright,
Now lost within the endless night.
And as the portal starts to close,
The whisper of the void still flows,
A haunting secret that allures, it confines,
For, in the end, the dark persists.
Esther Elizabeth Racah
