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.
Judgement takes time, even when
thoughts are immediate. Four
years or five. I, then, and I now
(even as few as nine minutes ago)
questioned your motives and
morals. Yet I looked past my
concerns, or was too caught up
in a temporary rush, and never
even considered the impermanent
state of affairs. How do situations
slowly end up moving too quickly?
How do you know something is
over before the end arrives, and
why are you so saddened to realize
it is gone when it might never have
been there in the first place? Why
do you rarely remember, except at
3:12, when you could not even do
anything about it in the first place?
You knew, even at the time, it was
all about timing.
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.