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
Slow down: even with the ideas that come to quicky. Take the time to acknowledge the feelings that arrive, as they arrive.
Write it down. How else will you remember what you were thinking?
Print neatly. You hardly understand the thoughts at the time, why make it more difficult to comprehend weeks or years from now?
Follow your own logic; only you need to truly make sense of what is happening, or all that has happened.
Pay attention to the lessons of the past. Be mindful that not all are worth repeating.
Clarity. Make corrections as you go. Flaws become more difficult to correct the longer you live with them.
11/14/2024 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.
Mondays are just young Fridays
As with any of this, each or every wakeful
moment, whether horizontal or in an active
stream-of-conscious state, you dare not allow
the doubt to continue further than it has.
Yes, anxiety has threatened to mercilessly
terrorize the duly imagined joy you believed
worthy of, still you managed to quell all
uneasy thoughts.
The years in a vacuum allowed you to tend
to all that was required, though the wall grew
higher, and stronger. What force was able to
seep through the mortar and allow you to feel
hopeful again?
Where has it gone, that which was equal
and true. What happened to all which, once
again, allowed you to breathe fully and feel
passion only heartfelt words could unrest?
A soul can exist in isolation for only so long.
You stumbled slightly, yet took that leap of
faith. Instinct exists for a reason, and you
found more to act on, and less to ignore.
You were not simply fogging the glass.
You lived, if only briefly, that which you
were capable of. Brief need no be, if you can
harvest once more all that is known to be
whole, and true; and waiting.
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.