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.
You can, for a day or three, step away from a conscious choice and remove yourself from the noise. But when can you safely step back?
I’ve been absent from this space for a couple of weeks. I’m not sure if it was a conscious choice, but it was one I made. First I was under the weather and I missed a few days that grew into weeks. I had other concerns and, somehow, I did not feel like writing, not here, not in my journal, no poetry; nothing.
My pencil was silent.
I write. It is what I do, I write every damn day. But I haven’t been, and each day there was a little less guilt. Deadlines came and went, and then were forgotten, as were the days of the week.
It was early this morning when I realized it was Wednesday, and here I am writing, again.
During this break I read more than I have been, I thought more than I usually do, and I rested more like I needed it. It was a valuable time for education, for letting my mind go to other places, and for focusing on things I need to pay more attention to.
But I need to write, I know that, so I am stepping back fully aware, but with a lesser intent.
I cannot be consumed with deadlines. I need to write, again, like I did, when I could and how I am. It is the process that I somehow became distracted from.
It’s personal when you realize that you are not all that you have, but you are all that holds you back.
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.