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.
When lost for words, we seek direction.
We attempt to explain all that cannot be explained as we would describe an abstract painting.
We try to resolve, or justify, the mystery in technical terms or offer random comparisons to peers and periods, instead of simply giving in to the emotional appeal of the subject at hand.
In doing so we struggle to make logical the abstract, when that — by its very nature — is not sustainable. To demystify the abstract is to lessen the impact.
By oversimplifying the overwhelming magnificence of a Picasso, Kandinsky, or Riopelle down to a brushstroke is to ignore the relationship of angles, the depth of each hue of pigment, and the feverishly original thought.
It is like purposely trying to make the beautiful seem banal, simply because we feel it might be easier to deal with.
What is there to explain?
No everything can be put into words.
It is what it is.
09/02/2019 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.