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 try to hold on a little longer to the remains of a crappy day, to those blue jeans that no longer fit (and likely never will again), or that crumpled letter that is more than a reminder of the person you’d like nothing more than to forget.
These, among so many other things, clutter the mind.
These are the shadows that taint the lucidity of the life you’ve managed thus far.
These are the smudges that block your vision.
There is no explanation to what we emotionally hoard.
We know, deep down, there is little value in the things we hold onto. We have also learned by trial and error that if you let go of some stuff you won’t release the pain. You will simply free up space for some other worthless memento.
There will always be reminders.
It is our nature, like it or not, to hang on to memories.
Embrace those that serve you well and let others fall by the wayside.
You will find something else to take its place.
You always do.
02/18/2021 j.g.l.
02/18/2021 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.