Revelation by chachah on DeviantArt

chachah on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/chachah/art/Aberration-Sylvestre-176085199chachah

chachah on DeviantArthttp://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/3.0/https://www.deviantart.com/chachah/art/The-Angular-Definition-694089329chachah

chachah on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/chachah/art/Amphitrite-179962505chachah

DAZ Studio + iray: Playing with DOF and Bokehs

chachah on DeviantArthttp://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/https://www.deviantart.com/chachah/art/DAZ-Studio-iray-Playing-with-DOF-and-Bokehs-687458003chachah

chachah on DeviantArthttp://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/https://www.deviantart.com/chachah/art/dForce-experiment-the-chain-748397885chachah

chachah on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/chachah/art/Promenade-matinale-179765171chachah

chachah on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/chachah/art/Universal-Clothing-Concept-for-DAZ-Studio-755562274chachah

chachah on DeviantArthttp://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/https://www.deviantart.com/chachah/art/Ubrisamen-865175377chachah

chachah on DeviantArthttp://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/https://www.deviantart.com/chachah/art/In-Memoriam-Sophiae-2-726704776chachah

Promoted Deviations

Literature

It's my life

[DEVIATION] Thundering silence, waking moments, with only my pulse muting life outside my mind. Blurry, but slowly gaining sharpness, light and shadows separate. One stray thread of light, unwelcome but treasured. Old pains remind me another day has passed. Solid footing, reassuring I will stand. Thunder softens to bird's songs. I rub my eyes. Draw deeply one breath. Life

Literature

Birdcage

Unknown room number antiseptic, parasitic blood flow Red count White count Gray skies, November Her favorite color was rose gold Language barriers were like blocked transmitters love was translucent, transparent in the way her eyes held onto mine 911 Emergency. Cardiac arrest— a six-year-old girl standing on the outside. Bodies roam or the hallway is full of blank space Memories drift in and out between stages The cage of her heart rattled one last time before it was declared comatose

Literature

The Watchtower

The turbulent sea casts wave upon wave against the base of the tower. The crashing of the water a thunderous sound that fills the air. The sky is grey, but not so dark that it obstructs the light completely and there is a slight breeze, enough that sea spray hits my face, water whipped up from the waves reaching all the way up to my balcony at the top of my tower. I don’t mind the sea spray, the coldness of it – or even the dampness of it. Not here, not in this place. I watch the sea, letting the rhythm of the waves memorise me for a time, letting it capture and calm my mind, almost letting it hypnotise me, but not quite. I retain enough consciousness to enjoy the moment, to enjoy the calming of my mind, to get lost a little in the moment... But not quite completely. I can never completely let go. That control is so hardwired into me, into my soul that to let go completely... Would be an anathema to me. I need that small amount of control just to be... Just to be happy? I wonder at

Suggested Deviants

KizukiTamura

Literature

tout bas

lumière en faute les arbres tiennent encore l’eau garde tout bas the light is at fault the trees still hold their ground firm water keeps all low

Literature

Racine

L’arbre se dépouille le courant retient son ombre je demeure racine Ma peau se soulève ton silence y trace un lit où nul ne s’attarde La vague prend l’écorce entre nos corps, un seul souffle change de rive The tree sheds its skin the current holds its shadow I remain root My skin lifts slightly your silence traces a bed where no one lingers The wave takes the bark between our bodies, one breath changes its shore

Literature

surface instable

surface instable le ciel tremble dans l’ombre les lignes se rompent aucun point fixe la forêt glisse hors d’elle et disparaît surface unstable the sky trembles in shadow lines begin to break no fixed point the forest slips out of itself and disappears

hyneige

Literature

L'Automne de nos vies.

L'Automne de nos vies. Marcher l'automne en châteaux de feuilles tombées, Cueillir les couleurs de nos souvenirs qui sèchent Dans le livre poussiéreux où l'oublie les lèche Et où le merveilleux s'estompe en tons plombés. Les couleurs mouillent en automne Dedans ma tête ouverte au vent Un rêve nu d'auparavant Qui gît sinistre et monotone.Je ratisse large en la mémoire qui meurt D'une mèche détrempée aux jus du futile. J'amasse quelques fragments d'absolu inutile, Fossiles perdus dans l'ambre d'une rumeur.L'automne passe, en feuille à feuille se déshabille Et dénude aussi nos âmes jusqu'à nos os. Le temps découpe en confettis de ses ciseaux...

Literature

Hommage a Jean Ferrat

Hommage à Jean Ferrat ¨Pourtant que la montagne est belle Comment peut-on s'imaginer En voyant un vol d'hirondelles Que l'automne vient d'arriver¨Ici l'automne est tellement beau Qu'on ne voudrait manquer la fête De toutes ces couleurs flambeaux Qui vibrent ondoient dans nos têtesC'était aussi là-bas l'automne Où la forêt et puis les hommes Perdaient leurs peaux défoliées Dedans une guerre insenséeDevant le miroir obscurci Je devinais à peine cette ombre De la vie qui est notre tombe Faite de drames d'embelliesMon premier disque d'un puit noir Qui tourne d'une voix puissante Tous ces grands thèmes qui nous hantent Jean Ferrat qui se lais...

Literature

Litanie de la pluie

Litanie de la pluie. 1. Orage en approche, Le ciel qui s'obscurcit, Un oiseau là-haut.2. Rideau de pluie fine, En remontée du temps : L'antan détrempé.3. La pluie tombe, tombe, Dissolution du temps Fûmes-nous jamais?4. Temps de pluie s'ennuie, Elle tournera la terre Avec ou sans nous.5. Horizon d'orage, Temps menaçant lourd Conscience précaire.6. Ciel rasant la terre, Lourds et sombres nuages : Temps d'après le temps.7. L'averse s'abat, Fait s'envoler la terre, Nuage à nuage.8. Marche sous la pluie, L'esprit trempé s'échauffe, Volutes d'idées.9. Un orage gronde, Déjà la pluie babille Son chant sur tes lèvres.10. Berceuse du vent, Tendr...

Parady

Literature

Neige d'aurore

Une aurore au ras de l’horizon se décolore Mon regard absorbe les lumières de la ville qui dort Une ombre cache les lustres des cieux La neige tombe doucement comme mes vœux Se dissipant sur mes mains frisantes Ne survivant pas au matin glaçant

Literature

Un petit bec de la reine des neiges

Un petit bec de la Reine des Neiges Au Québec, on se glace les mains à l’aise Dans les tronçons, le verglas sonne le glas Sinon, c’est la glaciation dans les bas Des tonneaux, tes oreilles vont sonner faux Ciboleau ,Tu dormiras pas sur ton dos De Saint-Jean à Chambly, le ciel chille au gris Le volant danse en esti, comme les roulades de mistigris, Mais de la Rive-Sud à l’île, le monde se crisse partout Il y a des Tintins qui glissent sur le bord, y’ont pas de Milou Tes pneus abordent la glace comme une meuf qui casse Pour regarder le carnaval des carambolages sur glace Doucement sur la trente, les phares flottent dans le blizzard On rentre sans être trempés et surtout pas de larmes Un petit bec de la Reine des Neiges Les villes s’endorment sous la neige Sois vigilante, tu seras contente

Literature

Pluie d'ouverture

Mon écriture se découd en ouverture Je me perds dans la mer de lune Mes émotions frappent mon visage de pluie Chaque goutte sonne une note sans bruit J’ai pleuré pour mon passé, j’ai bu ma rage dans l’Alizé Mon cœur, un creux sans fin, rugit de faim Je reçois pour diner ma bête noire comme un rendez-vous avec le soir

Suggested Collections

Poetry

Literature

The Wind

Imagine if you can, a small house set on the wind swept plains. Inside, sits a sad old man, bitter and tired. No family left to see, no name worth saying today, no longer living, yet always in pain. I hear the wind. That harsh whistle that leaves the heart with a wanting haunting spirit of past follies. They are echoes that play a picture show of lost time only found in my mind. A faded image of youth before the years began to stack on one after the other. When did that moment slip away? A photograph is one pause on a sea of life, yet never the same to either eyes. The wind whistles harder as though an old steam engine is ready to leave for another station. We move, we always have to move, even when all you want is for the world to stop. Perhaps you can stop, you can freeze, but that is no life. I stand up and look out through the blinds, the wind bends the trees and whistles a scream. No! Begone you phantoms of my sorry ill gotten life, I made my peace so long ago! For I

Literature

Today, Tomorrow, and Doomsday

So, tomorrow will be doomsday, but the world ended yesterday and today, just another day. There burns a dream. There burns a right to be or not to be does sing on the wind where another night pulls off a theft. A golden ring must only sing, for tomorrow calls and on and on. This a show cannot know of such joy nor woe for you see, those are mere human ties. The Earth lives a different way, turn as one whole, inhuman as it wheels so indifferent our world wills. A rock in a hand, a pebble among the vast sand, a blue dot without a demand. We live a short time and know small fragments of a far wider whole. The world will end but never fall, and to think we are in control is a hubris of Grecian wings. Man stood up and created Kings, but our world is not simple things.

Literature

Here I Depart

Along this old road, bloom violets they seem like a funny flower made of twilight colors. What now? I stand off the side of the road, my car has broken down. Alone in a vast field, a single road cuts through. I traveled far and long over winding hills, down valleys, and through green dells. Across deserts into canyons, from coast to coast to forests and flowers. Over mountains and plains, to rural towns and sprawling cities. Finally, it broke, my old car I knew well. Sure, I could fix it. Make it last a few hundred or a thousand miles more. I still have more to see, more places to go, but should I? The wind kicks up my hair and sweeps through the grasses, I just stand there staring at my car. What now creeps into my heart? Despair? Sadness? Pain? No, it is like exhaustion. I could travel more, but I will never plant any roots. A ghost who passes through but is nothing in truth. Just an observer stuck on the sidelines without anyone to know or to hold. Maybe this is a sign my

WORDS

12th Century Alms Houses Shoreham Kent UK

John-Baroque on DeviantArthttp://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/https://www.deviantart.com/john-baroque/art/12th-Century-Alms-Houses-Shoreham-Kent-UK-980170947John-Baroque

Literature

I've Overcome Everything but This...

It’s not silence, and it’s not solitude… It’s everything we never managed to say… It’s every moment of happiness spent without you… And most of all, it’s that closeness, that deep sense of comfort and completeness I felt only when you were near—something I can neither explain nor find with anyone else… I’ve overcome everything but this…

Literature

With Words and Images

WITH WORDS AND IMAGES Sometimes, in the night I wake up and you are my first thought: "Might we not be the torn halves of a single country?" And, of course, all alone I cannot answer this inquiry— this gaping hole each time a little wider that I try to fill with words and images.

drawings: traditional and digital

GreeGW on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/greegw/art/Metal-ball-1286925397GreeGW

kevin-chiang on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/kevin-chiang/art/2025-11-11-Harbor-1262929382kevin-chiang

stokrotas on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/stokrotas/art/Wiosenna-Para-Spring-couple-912622612stokrotas

Featured in Groups

chachah on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/chachah/art/Aberration-Sylvestre-176085199chachah

chachah on DeviantArthttp://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/3.0/https://www.deviantart.com/chachah/art/The-Angular-Definition-694089329chachah

chachah on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/chachah/art/Amphitrite-179962505chachah

chachah on DeviantArthttp://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/https://www.deviantart.com/chachah/art/DAZ-Studio-iray-Playing-with-DOF-and-Bokehs-687458003chachah

chachah on DeviantArthttp://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/https://www.deviantart.com/chachah/art/dForce-experiment-the-chain-748397885chachah

chachah on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/chachah/art/Promenade-matinale-179765171chachah

chachah on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/chachah/art/Universal-Clothing-Concept-for-DAZ-Studio-755562274chachah

chachah on DeviantArthttp://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/https://www.deviantart.com/chachah/art/Ubrisamen-865175377chachah

chachah on DeviantArthttp://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/https://www.deviantart.com/chachah/art/In-Memoriam-Sophiae-2-726704776chachah

Promoted Deviations

Literature

It's my life

[DEVIATION] Thundering silence, waking moments, with only my pulse muting life outside my mind. Blurry, but slowly gaining sharpness, light and shadows separate. One stray thread of light, unwelcome but treasured. Old pains remind me another day has passed. Solid footing, reassuring I will stand. Thunder softens to bird's songs. I rub my eyes. Draw deeply one breath. Life

Literature

Birdcage

Unknown room number antiseptic, parasitic blood flow Red count White count Gray skies, November Her favorite color was rose gold Language barriers were like blocked transmitters love was translucent, transparent in the way her eyes held onto mine 911 Emergency. Cardiac arrest— a six-year-old girl standing on the outside. Bodies roam or the hallway is full of blank space Memories drift in and out between stages The cage of her heart rattled one last time before it was declared comatose

Literature

The Watchtower

The turbulent sea casts wave upon wave against the base of the tower. The crashing of the water a thunderous sound that fills the air. The sky is grey, but not so dark that it obstructs the light completely and there is a slight breeze, enough that sea spray hits my face, water whipped up from the waves reaching all the way up to my balcony at the top of my tower. I don’t mind the sea spray, the coldness of it – or even the dampness of it. Not here, not in this place. I watch the sea, letting the rhythm of the waves memorise me for a time, letting it capture and calm my mind, almost letting it hypnotise me, but not quite. I retain enough consciousness to enjoy the moment, to enjoy the calming of my mind, to get lost a little in the moment... But not quite completely. I can never completely let go. That control is so hardwired into me, into my soul that to let go completely... Would be an anathema to me. I need that small amount of control just to be... Just to be happy? I wonder at

Suggested Deviants

KizukiTamura

Literature

tout bas

lumière en faute les arbres tiennent encore l’eau garde tout bas the light is at fault the trees still hold their ground firm water keeps all low

Literature

Racine

L’arbre se dépouille le courant retient son ombre je demeure racine Ma peau se soulève ton silence y trace un lit où nul ne s’attarde La vague prend l’écorce entre nos corps, un seul souffle change de rive The tree sheds its skin the current holds its shadow I remain root My skin lifts slightly your silence traces a bed where no one lingers The wave takes the bark between our bodies, one breath changes its shore

Literature

surface instable

surface instable le ciel tremble dans l’ombre les lignes se rompent aucun point fixe la forêt glisse hors d’elle et disparaît surface unstable the sky trembles in shadow lines begin to break no fixed point the forest slips out of itself and disappears

hyneige

Literature

L'Automne de nos vies.

L'Automne de nos vies. Marcher l'automne en châteaux de feuilles tombées, Cueillir les couleurs de nos souvenirs qui sèchent Dans le livre poussiéreux où l'oublie les lèche Et où le merveilleux s'estompe en tons plombés. Les couleurs mouillent en automne Dedans ma tête ouverte au vent Un rêve nu d'auparavant Qui gît sinistre et monotone.Je ratisse large en la mémoire qui meurt D'une mèche détrempée aux jus du futile. J'amasse quelques fragments d'absolu inutile, Fossiles perdus dans l'ambre d'une rumeur.L'automne passe, en feuille à feuille se déshabille Et dénude aussi nos âmes jusqu'à nos os. Le temps découpe en confettis de ses ciseaux...

Literature

Hommage a Jean Ferrat

Hommage à Jean Ferrat ¨Pourtant que la montagne est belle Comment peut-on s'imaginer En voyant un vol d'hirondelles Que l'automne vient d'arriver¨Ici l'automne est tellement beau Qu'on ne voudrait manquer la fête De toutes ces couleurs flambeaux Qui vibrent ondoient dans nos têtesC'était aussi là-bas l'automne Où la forêt et puis les hommes Perdaient leurs peaux défoliées Dedans une guerre insenséeDevant le miroir obscurci Je devinais à peine cette ombre De la vie qui est notre tombe Faite de drames d'embelliesMon premier disque d'un puit noir Qui tourne d'une voix puissante Tous ces grands thèmes qui nous hantent Jean Ferrat qui se lais...

Literature

Litanie de la pluie

Litanie de la pluie. 1. Orage en approche, Le ciel qui s'obscurcit, Un oiseau là-haut.2. Rideau de pluie fine, En remontée du temps : L'antan détrempé.3. La pluie tombe, tombe, Dissolution du temps Fûmes-nous jamais?4. Temps de pluie s'ennuie, Elle tournera la terre Avec ou sans nous.5. Horizon d'orage, Temps menaçant lourd Conscience précaire.6. Ciel rasant la terre, Lourds et sombres nuages : Temps d'après le temps.7. L'averse s'abat, Fait s'envoler la terre, Nuage à nuage.8. Marche sous la pluie, L'esprit trempé s'échauffe, Volutes d'idées.9. Un orage gronde, Déjà la pluie babille Son chant sur tes lèvres.10. Berceuse du vent, Tendr...

Parady

Literature

Neige d'aurore

Une aurore au ras de l’horizon se décolore Mon regard absorbe les lumières de la ville qui dort Une ombre cache les lustres des cieux La neige tombe doucement comme mes vœux Se dissipant sur mes mains frisantes Ne survivant pas au matin glaçant

Literature

Un petit bec de la reine des neiges

Un petit bec de la Reine des Neiges Au Québec, on se glace les mains à l’aise Dans les tronçons, le verglas sonne le glas Sinon, c’est la glaciation dans les bas Des tonneaux, tes oreilles vont sonner faux Ciboleau ,Tu dormiras pas sur ton dos De Saint-Jean à Chambly, le ciel chille au gris Le volant danse en esti, comme les roulades de mistigris, Mais de la Rive-Sud à l’île, le monde se crisse partout Il y a des Tintins qui glissent sur le bord, y’ont pas de Milou Tes pneus abordent la glace comme une meuf qui casse Pour regarder le carnaval des carambolages sur glace Doucement sur la trente, les phares flottent dans le blizzard On rentre sans être trempés et surtout pas de larmes Un petit bec de la Reine des Neiges Les villes s’endorment sous la neige Sois vigilante, tu seras contente

Literature

Pluie d'ouverture

Mon écriture se découd en ouverture Je me perds dans la mer de lune Mes émotions frappent mon visage de pluie Chaque goutte sonne une note sans bruit J’ai pleuré pour mon passé, j’ai bu ma rage dans l’Alizé Mon cœur, un creux sans fin, rugit de faim Je reçois pour diner ma bête noire comme un rendez-vous avec le soir

Suggested Collections

Poetry

Literature

The Wind

Imagine if you can, a small house set on the wind swept plains. Inside, sits a sad old man, bitter and tired. No family left to see, no name worth saying today, no longer living, yet always in pain. I hear the wind. That harsh whistle that leaves the heart with a wanting haunting spirit of past follies. They are echoes that play a picture show of lost time only found in my mind. A faded image of youth before the years began to stack on one after the other. When did that moment slip away? A photograph is one pause on a sea of life, yet never the same to either eyes. The wind whistles harder as though an old steam engine is ready to leave for another station. We move, we always have to move, even when all you want is for the world to stop. Perhaps you can stop, you can freeze, but that is no life. I stand up and look out through the blinds, the wind bends the trees and whistles a scream. No! Begone you phantoms of my sorry ill gotten life, I made my peace so long ago! For I

Literature

Today, Tomorrow, and Doomsday

So, tomorrow will be doomsday, but the world ended yesterday and today, just another day. There burns a dream. There burns a right to be or not to be does sing on the wind where another night pulls off a theft. A golden ring must only sing, for tomorrow calls and on and on. This a show cannot know of such joy nor woe for you see, those are mere human ties. The Earth lives a different way, turn as one whole, inhuman as it wheels so indifferent our world wills. A rock in a hand, a pebble among the vast sand, a blue dot without a demand. We live a short time and know small fragments of a far wider whole. The world will end but never fall, and to think we are in control is a hubris of Grecian wings. Man stood up and created Kings, but our world is not simple things.

Literature

Here I Depart

Along this old road, bloom violets they seem like a funny flower made of twilight colors. What now? I stand off the side of the road, my car has broken down. Alone in a vast field, a single road cuts through. I traveled far and long over winding hills, down valleys, and through green dells. Across deserts into canyons, from coast to coast to forests and flowers. Over mountains and plains, to rural towns and sprawling cities. Finally, it broke, my old car I knew well. Sure, I could fix it. Make it last a few hundred or a thousand miles more. I still have more to see, more places to go, but should I? The wind kicks up my hair and sweeps through the grasses, I just stand there staring at my car. What now creeps into my heart? Despair? Sadness? Pain? No, it is like exhaustion. I could travel more, but I will never plant any roots. A ghost who passes through but is nothing in truth. Just an observer stuck on the sidelines without anyone to know or to hold. Maybe this is a sign my

WORDS

John-Baroque on DeviantArthttp://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/https://www.deviantart.com/john-baroque/art/12th-Century-Alms-Houses-Shoreham-Kent-UK-980170947John-Baroque

Literature

I've Overcome Everything but This...

It’s not silence, and it’s not solitude… It’s everything we never managed to say… It’s every moment of happiness spent without you… And most of all, it’s that closeness, that deep sense of comfort and completeness I felt only when you were near—something I can neither explain nor find with anyone else… I’ve overcome everything but this…

Literature

With Words and Images

WITH WORDS AND IMAGES Sometimes, in the night I wake up and you are my first thought: "Might we not be the torn halves of a single country?" And, of course, all alone I cannot answer this inquiry— this gaping hole each time a little wider that I try to fill with words and images.

drawings: traditional and digital

GreeGW on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/greegw/art/Metal-ball-1286925397GreeGW

kevin-chiang on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/kevin-chiang/art/2025-11-11-Harbor-1262929382kevin-chiang

stokrotas on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/stokrotas/art/Wiosenna-Para-Spring-couple-912622612stokrotas

Featured in Groups

Deviation Actions

It's my life

Birdcage

The Watchtower

tout bas

Racine

surface instable

L'Automne de nos vies.

Hommage a Jean Ferrat

Litanie de la pluie

Neige d'aurore

Un petit bec de la reine des neiges

Pluie d'ouverture

The Wind

Today, Tomorrow, and Doomsday

Here I Depart

I've Overcome Everything but This...

With Words and Images

It's my life

Birdcage

The Watchtower

tout bas

Racine

surface instable

L'Automne de nos vies.

Hommage a Jean Ferrat

Litanie de la pluie

Neige d'aurore

Un petit bec de la reine des neiges

Pluie d'ouverture

The Wind

Today, Tomorrow, and Doomsday

Here I Depart

I've Overcome Everything but This...

With Words and Images

Revelation

Description

It's my life

Birdcage

The Watchtower

tout bas

Racine

surface instable

L'Automne de nos vies.

Hommage a Jean Ferrat

Litanie de la pluie

Neige d'aurore

Un petit bec de la reine des neiges

Pluie d'ouverture

The Wind

Today, Tomorrow, and Doomsday

Here I Depart

I've Overcome Everything but This...

With Words and Images