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.
To simply call it an ‘escape’ would be an indication that I don’t like where I am. But I do.
So, I’m calling it a ‘detour’: a couple of hundred miles in a car with a bagful of intentions, a set destination, and plenty of space for distractions.
I left my watch at home.
My mobile device is here if I really need to know, but time was of very little consequence for the past four days or so. If it turns into five days remains to be seen, but I have no objections to this certain sense of freedom.
Inspiration often takes so little time, if you allow yourself the space.
The devices we use to keep us informed about the news of the world, or our family and friends, as handy as they are (as convenient they may be) often take away from what really matters; time to ourselves.
It’s funny how you recharge, when you are unplugged.
It can mean you don’t do what you usually do. Even better when you do only what choose to do, and you do it any way you want to do it. You might not even do what you planned. You may even do it without any knowledge of what is happening anywhere else, for a time.
This is your time.
Does it really matter if the weather app says it will rain at three, or five . . . or even at all?
Sometimes knowing too much can take away from random spontaneity.
Life will do as it does, if allowed.
For the past couple of days, I did exactly what I needed to do, and I will eventually return home with a resolve to do it a little more.
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.