The wandering of the waves and the sound of sighs echoing softly through the forest of lost dreams, reminded me of the fleeting nature of my state—lost in labyrinths of desire and anguish. I could not tell whether I was dreaming or awake, given that reality for me had come to consist of fantastic visions and peculiar dreams. And it was as if the past had poured into the present—which, however, was aimed at the future—and this chaos of future expectations and vague memories of the past never abated as the nights went by. I was confused and lost, yet I did not lose heart at all; on the contrary, I chose to seek out arcane symbols and enchanted grimoires to discover something about myself, given that I could not remember who or what I was. Scarlet flowers caught my eye while I was utterly exhausted from my search in the void, and their petals brought me comfort during the long winter nights when the sense of grief never left my side. Long and sombre were the moments when bitter memories carved symbols of pain and anguish into my heart, and I stood there frozen, as if the night’s chill had stripped away my ability to react and move forward on my path of deranged restlessness. And dreams turned into nightmares that tore away every desire for delights and bliss. The ocean in the distance seemed like a safe haven for my soul, yet its vast immensity in the darkness of night unsettled me, seeming to transform into an abyss of obliteration. And so it was that I lost my battle against a part of myself that wanted to forget all the bitterness of the memories vehemently trying to suck me into their vortex of deep sadness. The bells of the ancient abandoned cemetery rang a funeral fanfare for all those dreams of mine that had been carried away by the sudden storm that had taken possession of my kingdom of forbidden and impervious dreams. Even the clouds had grown sorrowful and voiced their dissent with an incessant rain that washed away every fragment of hope I had kept in a crystal box. I felt dazed and intoxicated by the chaotic confusion of that pandemonium. In the end, I had lost everything I had guarded with such devotion, and even my name had been erased from the entire realm—as if I had never existed. The wandering of the waves no longer soothed me since the night of the loss of my annihilated dreams, which turned to dust and ashes. Dismay found its perpetual abode in my heart and never left, and I embraced a dismal and bleak fate in an absolute silence.
Elisabetta Esther
The Wandering Of The Waves
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