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.
We are, right now, captive in a moment where we are questioning everything we have known.
All of us want answers.
Too many of us have been isolated for too long. We now doubt everything from our faith to our practices, our governments, science, and each other; even those we are closest to.
More so, we question ourselves and will continue to do so as long as this pandemic threat continues.
We are tired of the distance. There is a gulf between what we used to know and all we can’t understand.
We no longer trust. We can’t.
We haven’t bottomed out (not yet), financially, morally, or spiritually but we don’t even know how close we are. We cannot know how deep this well runs, nor can we feel how empty it is.
We have lost touch.
We lack human contact. We are tired of looking at everything from a distance. We have lost perspective.
We have grown tired of waiting. We are tired of wanting.
Each of us is questioning where we are, what we have, and when we will get out of this mess.
There is no answer. Sadly, we wouldn’t believe it if there were.
Nothing is normal.
When will this end?
Will we go back to the way things once were?
Do we go back to what we were doing (can we go back) or will we allow our thoughts to wander. Can we wonder?
Can we still dream?
Are our dreams relevant? Are there some dreams we’ve held onto which can no longer be salvaged?
I have no answers.
I have no more questions than the next human. My voice is restricted to what I know, and I’m not even sure if there is value in knowing any more.
I no longer understand.
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.