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.
We want to know what
we don’t know, or hadn’t thought of,
or forgot.
What mattered then,
or what mattered when, shifts over time.
We notice.
Perception is what you don’t see.
Deception is what know.
You see it differently through your aloneness.
The truth behind a lie,
you question how and why.
It made sense.
Anticipation keeps us waiting
for only so long. Will it matter
if you felt it never did?
© 2021 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.
I will, as the day progresses,
encounter negative attitudes, become
distracted by unfulfilled dreams, and
make numerous attempts
to silence the imagination. All is
to be expected and none can be
explained, thus I will continue to
make my way.
It is not without want or intention,
and at certain points over the next
24 hours, I will find some clarity
and acceptance; often reminding
myself to be grateful for what
I have or where I have been.
Sure, certain things need to be
improved, or forgotten, but these
are only parts of what I am and not
the total me.
I am the sum of all my parts. I am
what I am and keep trying to be
all I can be.
I will continue to find
a future for the unexplained.
So goes my life, so goes my day.
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.