The anguish of the night descended softly like a dreadful rain,
On the valley of solitude and decay where doom held its domain.
Wonders and death were all there waiting for the definitive end,
While the stars grieved for aborted dreams that were never meant to be.
Trust was fractured into thousands of fragments,
Like a broken mirror in the middle of a dark chamber.
The disclosed longings of a life already gone were kept secret,
Inside a treasure chest in the abyss of the dream world.
Feelings of melancholy and sorrow overwhelmed the frozen midnight,
Transforming into a gloomy haze, making trembling every blossom.
In every secret garden of roses, the only light allowed to penetrate was the moonlight,
At the dreary sound of ghosts swirling in an eerie dance.
Faraway from the brutal reality, the stars gleamed an invisible pale blue light,
In a firmament crowded with clouds and nightmares.
Longings and clouds entangled like tales of forgotten despair,
Cherished treasures vanished into the gloomy and tranquil aura.
Everything was trapped in the grasp of the midnight’s wintry clasp,
While spectres lingered, haunting memories no dawn could ever have obliterated.
In the hollow abyss of the misty vale, ancient trees wept alone,
Their gnarled branches twisted like distress cast in weathered stone.
The winds bore laments, carrying enigmas from times of oblivion,
Each note became a mourning hymn, a dirge too exquisite to last.
An owl hooted softly from a distant, forsaken tower,
Its cry was a reminder of life’s fleeting, fragile power.
Every petal quivered under the weight of forfeited hopes and fears,
Dripping with the morning dew that consorted with unseen tears.
Beneath this grave night’s sorrowful veil, even phantoms wept,
While faded spirits drifted, tethered to dreams they could not abide
Under the spell of the anguish of the night.
Esther Elizabeth Racah
