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.
It gets harder each year to sort through the mixed messages we are bombarded with in this highly-commercialized season of greed.
It’s not just the non-secular selling of goods and gifts destined to end up in the landfill, but the promise of perfection woven into each message; as if we are not complete without this or that.
It is the message, the method, and the madness of advertising.
Of course, it’s nothing new (it never has been), and soon you learn (as you always do) that the bigger the promise, the harder the fall.
No matter your age, there is always something they are selling you.
No matter your stage in life, there is always something they are telling you.
Get past the bullshit.
You have enough.
We all have enough stuff.
What we need is the resilience to say we have had enough, and the confidence to enjoy what we have.
12/16/2017 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.
2 replies on “You Have Enough”
I so appreciate getting your daily posts, having the words that seem to always express what I can’t.
Thank you for reading, and for feeling. You are appreciated.