The eternal tree in the twilight’s silent embrace,
Where shadows curl in violet grace,
A twisted tree of ancient birth
Rises from the haunted earth.
Its roots stretch deep in forgotten soil,
Bound by grief, eternal toil.
Above, the stars in endless flight
Circle the tree, a crown of light.
Once, it bloomed in hues of gold,
Its leaves whispered stories untold.
But now, the branches, gnarled with age,
Bear the marks of time’s cruel rage.
The winds that howl through empty space
Carry echoes of a long-lost place,
A kingdom fallen, now erased,
Leaving only sorrow’s trace.
Beneath the cosmic, starry dome,
The eternal tree stands tall, forever alone.
Its bark is scarred with memories of the past,
Of a time when joy could last.
But fate, in cruel jest, did tear
The light from every tender prayer.
Now, only shadows linger here,
Wrapped in the tree’s eternal fear.
The stars, once bright with hope and dream,
Now flicker with a cold, distant gleam.
They watch in silence as the night
Swallows all in endless flight.
Yet in the centre, burning bright,
A single star, defying blight,
Holds the memory of what was lost,
A beacon in this land of frost.
But even stars must fall and fade,
Their light consumed by endless shade.
And so, this eternal tree, with roots of stone,
Will stand forever, all alone.
A monument to dreams betrayed,
In twilight’s grip, where hope decayed.
Esther Elizabeth Racah
