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.
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.
Look ahead, or remain
where you are.
We can struggle
through this silence, or speak
inconsequential dialogue
to fill the minutes
and hours,
and it could lead nowhere.
We’ve been there before.
An open door can be
a barrier or a blessing
Temperature and colour
slightly the same,
our knowledge formed
by choices,
shame,
and haphazard risks
near the end
of the day.
Still
we dare, or we attempt,
to interpret whispers,
the wind,
and dreams we create with
the accuracy of a horoscope
and certainty
of a lottery ticket.
We can question
our judgement, or
discount it as fate.
We’ve been here before.
Perspective
can hold us
wherever we are.
10/14/2017 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.