The wind of reality scorched the sky like a blazing flame,
While the clouds wept teardrops of fear,
Everything sat still like a gelid stone, bewildered by anguish.
Fragments of shame and sorrow filled the garden of phoney flowers,
Falling like leaves under a tormented wind,
Faraway from longings and desires.
Solitude and despair fed the abyss of nightmares and phobias,
Once again, the rulers of the realm of turpitude,
In the midst of noisy battles of darkness and light.
The wind of reality turned every dream to dust,
Creating gloomy and frightening ghosts of regrets,
Fleeting through the dusky sky on the darkest nights.
A soft doom stroked the branches of the tree of knowledge and obliviousness,
Striving to discover secrets and forsaken truths,
In the ethereal world of hidden mirrors and broken vows.
The blooming flames of illusion enlighted the infinite void,
With their blazing glares tinging the stars with a touch of ethereal madness,
Amidst the cosmic chaos, a mosaic of fleeting dreams shimmered.
Whispers of forgotten memories permeated the silent chambers of time,
Haunting the shadows lost in the labyrinth of anguish,
While reality and illusion merged into a single entity, where lay masqueraded as truths.
The turmoil of frail specks of hope swirling free in the realm of dreams captivated every ashe of despair,
Guiding weary thoughts towards the dawn of obliteration,
And desolation loomed, engulfing every glimmer of hope in its icy grasp.
Beneath the shroud of darkness, sparks of sadness illuminated the night,
As the wind of reality continued its relentless quest in the unknown,
In the garden of nightmares lay the remnants of dreams, crushed by the weight of despair.
Esther Elizabeth Racah
