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.
Each of us is fragile, under pressure, and aware of the life’s difficulties. Day by day the obstacles change, or become more familiar, and we deal with them (or try) in our own way.
Past experience allows us, at times, to get through, or get past all that we face; only because we have been there before.
It might not be the same experience, but we have learned.
Life’s common, or uncommon, events take a chip out of our ego, dent our pride, and leave scars or scuffs.
Sometimes we can’t see. Other times we can’t heal.
We are all a bit broken, and full of imperfections.
When we connect with another person, we get a sense of their hardships, or inadequacies.
We learn to accept them as we have come to accept ourselves.
In that we find beauty.
Each of us are beautiful wrecks. When we realize that, it makes it easier to accept one another.
I am here, flaws and all.
I’m glad you are as well.
12/12/2020 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.