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.
You are not alone.
Others, too, have walked this path.
Physically distanced,
yet right there. Or almost. Emotionally
where heartbreak meets uncertainty.
Who hasn’t walked this way?
If not the same direction
perhaps the same purpose.
Never-ending sidewalks
of this filthy society, whatever the place.
Each of us affected
by movement, passive motion or demand.
Broken strides, we continue to try.
Do you experience pain?
Panhandling our feelings,
we all beg for attention.
If not to be noticed,
if only as if to belong somewhere.
Every one of us has
lived through a discomfort. Emotions
will only allow a certain levity.
How can I know your story?
My route has been similar
if it has not been the same.
©2020 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.