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.
Yesterday did not go as planned.
I had things to do – things I needed to do – that simply did not get done.
Lately, many days have been like that. More than I care to admit.
Some days I fail to see all that I have.
Other days I’m unsure where I am going, even when I try to adjust my
way of thinking or alter my direction.
When I struggle with all this negativity, I don’t (or can’t) take into
consideration the many good things that I possess.
I’m too caught up in the emotional traffic and feelings of anger that
rise up from the disappointment that I can’t focus on the task at hand.
I don’t think I’m unique.
I believe we all have things we want to accomplish.
We don’t all struggle. Few of us admit we are nowhere near where
we need to be. None of us are perfect.
I am flawed.
Some days I can’t quite see past all the imperfections, but still
I will keep trying.
I don’t want today to simply turn into yesterday.
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.