How do we choose to travel?
What is reliable in the rain?
What is our ultimate destination,
for this time, this journey, or
this day?
We move at the speed of life.
Depending on traffic, others
may chose to follow your path,
but not your direction.
© 2021 j.g. lewis
A little cold, little wet,
a little tired and yet
I am here. Still,
full of wonder.
The morning chill leaves
little to the imagination
and much less
to hope for.
Expected, perhaps, as it
always is, this time, this
season is only what
we ask of it.
11/21/2024 j.g.l.
The answers are far less certain
than even last week, to all those
perennial questions or solutions
you might seek.
What do you believe, or
what do you believe in?
Come Monday, you have fewer
questions than you had last week.
For a while there are less doubts
in what you believe.
Whom do you believe in,
and who believes in you?
11/18/2024 j.g.l.
Consider each moment
leading up to now.
Cause and effect
affects where you are,
whom you have been, and all
you are now.
Any possibility sustains every reality.
To doubt is to question;
to ask is to reply.
11/22/2024 j.g.l.
As of late, for reasons as varied as they are non-existent, I have not been writing in the manner of which I have come to expect of myself. I am neither as prolific nor as detailed as, I feel, I usually am.
My poetry, while still insightful, does not command the length or breadth I feel I am capable of. Revisions to a manuscript I have toiled away on for some time have become painful (perhaps a sign that the work is closer to completion than I care to acknowledge), and my mind wanders to another project that requires the same diligence.
My daily writing is less than it once was (I feel guilty about that), and even the scant sentences I jot down in my journal seem to only document my time here on earth. Nothing extravagant, nothing more than a slight glimpse of where I am. Nothing that memorable, sadly.
I’ve been feeling for months that I am ready to embark on another kind of writing but have yet to determine exactly what that might be. I am full or ideas, characters, dialogue and circumstance, but it doesn’t quite feel like it has the backbone it needs to pull me in a certain direction. I even, a few weeks back, bought a fresh new notebook to keep these thoughts separate from all the others. The notes I have included in this book are random, undeveloped, at times personal, and (as of yet) make little sense. I reread these notes, almost daily, and I am inspired enough to clarify or expand on certain streams of thought, but it needs a more definite direction.
Perhaps I do as well?
11/17/2024 j.g.l.
I'm like a pencil;
sometimes sharp,
most days
well-rounded,
other times
dull or
occasionally
broken.
Still I write.
j.g. lewis
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.
You can’t fully prepare yourself for what is to come.
It is unknown and uncertain and not knowing is often
where we dwell.
Uncertainty gets us thinking, keeps us curious about
who we are and what will become of the days, weeks,
and years we leave behind.
We do indeed live in the moment(s), yet those that
preceded this time will continue to influence our current
state of mind.
Past tense.
Present tense.
What was is not what is now.
The sooner you are able to grasp all that, the better able you
are to understand how you can you be ready for the future?
It need not be such a definite moment, but it will define you,
whether you will admit it or not.
What you say, what you write, what you experience or what
you remember does have a lasting impression.
© 2022 j.g. lewis
If a star should fall tonight
would you even notice?
Beyond the bandwidth of your rationalizations,
a succession of contradictions and explanations,
would you mind or will it matter
if a star fell to the earth? Would
you even hear the shatter?
Millions of people, like constellations,
dealing with insurmountable issues of trust
and faith, and complex relations,
whosoever can take the time, find the conscious mind
to pay attention to an innocuous occasion
like a falling star,
or the possibilities of such.
How can we take seriously
that which happens in the heavens
while this planet demands so much attention
to serious matters. Somewhere, nearby, a neighbor screams,
the night is not quiet as it once seemed.
If you slept through it all
will the stars even fall?
Who would even notice or wake to the sound?
Does it even matter when you are not around?
Always in darkness, we know not how
to embrace it, or to end it.
Should a star fall from the sky
would you know who might have sent it?
Are you willing to guess, are you willing to receive it?
As we stay, as we do, entangled in temporary lives
filled with perpetual motion,
a star falls, and we seldom heed the sight or
take time to amend our emotions.
All of us stuck in the middle of something,
nearer to the end, always in the darkness.
When the star falls, cutting through the clouds,
diamond-sharp edges tearing at the canvas
of your semi-comfortable existence,
releasing the inevitable. Blood drawn,
spilling out, time and again.
Would you recognize what is hidden,
or understand the mind a falling star can damage?
Your soul or conscience telling you
what you don’t want to hear, thoughts teeming
with contempt and abject fear. Wide-eyed awake
still with no sight, making excuses to yourself
for excusing another life.
The galaxies you once noticed
have turned their backs on you.
One star, any star, any star will do.
If a star falls from the sky,
and it will,
will it come close.
Darkness ever strong,
discomfort goes too long, likewise your shame.
You can’t forgive your silence, or forget your
indiscretions, as you shoulder all the blame.
Destined to repeat past mistakes, time
and again,
when the star falls before you,
will you recognize the pain?
Should a star fall from your life, another
luminary gone, and so too the brightness,
will you slip back into the bottle?
It has comforted you before.
Can you close up all the curtains, again, and hide
behind your door
trying to banish all reminders.
Will you try to validate your presence
with another hand, replacing thoughts
of how it happened
with those you cannot understand.
If a star falls in the night
will you be awake enough to feel it?
Let them fall, slipping hastily through the air,
down, down,
crashing down,
let them see you there.
Perhaps they will stick around, for
now is never
what was planned,
and you know it rarely it is.
If a star falls from the night
is it worthwhile trying to find it?
© 2015 j.g. lewis
As the morning calls out, I choose to blink, wipe stiff sleep from mine eyes and soak up the sun, rather than shielding my pupils from the pain of past days.
Meaningful motion begins the day.
There is purposeful thought in understanding that nothing will be cured or conquered by staying still. Each day, in fact each moment of the day, is a tactile, tangible exercise in stepping forward past your faults, flaws, and the forgotten lessons that have guided your way to this point.
Even the sleep you have just survived prepares you for possibilities, if only to give you enough rest. Silence, however long it lasts, is a prayer that says far more than you can comprehend at least, all at once.
It could take all day to figure it out.
Some days it is a struggle, yes, but aren’t most things you deem worthwhile? If it were too easy it would provide no effort, and exertion is required for any form of motion.
Even doing nothing involves some sort of inertia.
It is a responsibility to make use of even the stillness, even in the quietest moments. Morning is only a start. Make it meaningful.
You have hours to complete the day.
©2022 j.g. lewis
Even my name will carry forward
to years I will not touch. This certainty remains
as truthful as it is obvious. We exist
in this fractured reality.
We all will die.
Admit that and you will move
more freely in this world.
Journey or adventure.
Most of us, week to week, are not aware
of a destination or even our path.
This has been my familiarity.
No other person’s experience can be
compared to your own experience.
We know various versions of the truth.
Time is tactile.
My hand will cup a breast only while my lips
have a taste to be quenched by lust,
or temptation.
Others will touch, or wish not to be touched.
Morals coat any decision made.
Experience tells us so.
Any human connection is hard; even harder
is loss of connection. Emotions are a commodity
shared with few, expressed by even less of us.
Trust.
The mind is never vacant, but a room muddled
by darkness. This space hosts a scent
I will remember after I
am left for dead.
We will all die; most of us alone.
Admit that, and you will move
more freely through this life.
© 2019 j.g. lewis
beyond the facade
we hold nostalgic sadness
it is how we are
possibilities
we may wish for other things
it is within us
we question our plans
question our priorities
better said than done
we try for comfort
within our environment
is our life better?
we seek nourishment
in our emotional state
will it sustain us?
our personal boundaries
expand and contract daily
we feel our limits
are we better off?
wondering or wandering
we are where we are
© 2022 j.g. lewis
I’m like a pencil;
sometimes sharp,
most days
well-rounded,
other times
dull or
occasionally
broken.
Still I write.
j.g. lewis
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.
