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The sun came up,
Different birds singing the same song.
My bed still my own.
Some the same.
And you; you're still here.
So I conclude; this is home.
One door I close, for the last time turn the key.
Do my memories stay behind?
Or did I put them in a box; take them with me?
An empty room, an empty house
My heart full of the things I shouldn't forget
But like the attic; our brain needs cleaning out from time to time.
The new house somewhat homely,
A bit of paint and work it needs.
But now I'm finally moving forward,
It's time for new memories.
With every box I empty,
With every shelf I fill,
Another space is emptied
For a memory to fill.
Another door opens,
Another page to fill.
Last LinesLast Lines
Driving down this street which was my street,
For years and years and years.
The streetlights passing one by one,
Like a tunnel of light;
I saw them build it.
Every tree that was planted,
I have seen it grow, flourish and wither
Time and time and time again
And now, in just a few more hours
That place I will leave.
A new place, more quiet
Less cars, fewer crowds.
A bigger room to breathe in,
A different view to call my own.
Tonight the last night,
I rest my head here.
Already I can’t remember
The last song I ever sang here.
But these are the last lines,
I will ever-ever write in this place.
Forty Day Project – Day Nineteen
The echoes of a lifetime past,
Grow larger with every box moved
Out of every room.
A desk, a bed and cupboard
They move from the old house
To your new home.
My first kiss, my first touch
Our first time, together
And the first song I ever sang to you.
Their echoes have long died,
But with each thing I move;
They live just for one more moment.
My first steps were taken in this house,
My sister born in these very rooms,
And my brother used to sleep next door.
Now I see more parts of the floor than I remember,
Bits of wall that were hidden before
And pictures projected by my mind; on the blank canvas this house becomes.
Slowly home becomes nothing more,
Than a set of walls
Around a thousand memories.
Forty Day Project – Day Eighteen
A moment to simply let your thoughts surface
To wash away your worries
And to contemplate the day.
With closed eyes or just looking
For the answers and feelings
You’ve been supressing all day.
Of the mind and the heart
To find that special place called peace
To which only you know the way.
Don’t ever lose that
In the shouts and static of the world
Forty Day Project – Day Seventeen
I used to be a degenerate
Unsure of whom I was or how to act.
I used to get drunk like everyone else
On the weekend or without.
I’ll never quit my French ways,
Nor forsake the Flemish touch.
The entertainer’s allure and mischief,
You’ll see that in a crooked smile and my attire.
But I did change and I did wake up,
I became a little more alive with every step
Along the way of my own life, and the path now joined to mine.
To look upon me and see my beauty; within and without
That is your gift and I pray you will hold that dear.
Accept all I am and don’t always seek change, after all;
Me is who you fell in love with,
Me is who I will always be.
Forty Day Project – Day Sixteen
When you close your eyes;
What is the first thing you see?
Is there a spectre lurking in the darkness?
Are there whispers in the dark?
Or is there peace, a pretty place?
Nowhere but behind one’s eyes can you see
Inside the soul we have all hidden so well.
Nothing could ever truly reveal it
Save an event too intense for facades;
A shock that cracks the mask.
Don’t bother picking up the shards then;
For we have seen who you truly are.
All we can do is polish our soul; pray for the best.
As we hope, and act and change and live
Love will find a way if you let it, to overcome.
Shadows aren’t that bad;
They give depth to an often shallow existence.
Dredge up the dirt and eventually
The lake of your being will become deeper;
A mysterious depth, full of nothing but you
Free of all the debris of your past.
Forty Day Project - Fifteen
Everything you ever accumulated,
Eventually fits into an equal number of boxes.
So what if you were a Bedouin?
How many camels would you need?
To cross the desert to the next place
Where water and life were waiting.
Every box tells a story, so what if you lose a few?
Perhaps they open up space for a new page
Or does that lighten your load?
Does it make you quicker on your feet,
Footloose, fancy free.
Every box that you don’t have to carry,
Leaves more time to enjoy the view,
The people, the stories, the life that is all around you
Just passing you by.
Forty Day Project – Day Fourteen
The DoorThe Door
Each one leading to the next
And the next
And the next.
Red-hot being dipped in water
Forms the mist
Shields the truth
Clarity is lost, yet purity is found
And as you cry out and the fog drowns it out
Like a muffled shout inside a hidden room
Perhaps you will chance upon your own silence
And realise that was all you were looking for.
In the water
Of the words of life
On pages older
Than we will ever become.
Eternity it calls now
Ringing on and on and on like a blade in battle.
Fate will never wield it, faith will never rule it
It cannot be bent to the will of any but One
Forty Day Project - Thirteen
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More