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 exist within a conundrum: a hollow promise,
less than a guarantee, with far too much fine print
and hyperbole disguising immodest claims by the
local chamber of commerce.
Selling features surpass the benefits
of living there or here, or wherever.
Often we question why we live
where we live.
It is greater than geography,
more than an address or identity.
Our company of cohorts and companions
changes over time.
We move, as do they.
How do we settle?
Location, location, uncertain destination,
what you see in the rearview mirror will
likely greet you further down the highway.
They say you can’t go back.
Yet, you usually do.
City to neighbourhood, dwellings or
simply shelter, we seek comfort. Or
contentment.
A place to sleep, to eat, or ignore
what goes on outside the window.
Across the street or 27 stories down below.
High-density urban sprawl, demographics,
economics, overpopulation, the mechanics
of increased consumption of once-precious
resources. We are all what we are made of.
Humanities: the quality or state of being.
Home is what, home is where, we make it.
Home is a place you accept
more than you will understand.
© 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.