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.
It’s interesting, or odd, how you do something with dedicated regularity, and then suddenly stop.
Not just for a day or three, it goes on for months.
And you’re not sure why.
Yes, you think about it, but you don’t analyze it with any sort of concern. Like it will all come back to you.
And surely you will, but why did you stop?
We are all creatures of habit.
Often, what we do becomes a noticeable part of who we are.
But who notices when something changes.
Maybe something has altered your daily routine and you can’t find the mental space or strength to figure it out.
It’s not like you, yet day after day after day you don’t do what you used to do daily.
Your routine has been disturbed, as if new priorities have pushed away the reason you got so involved.
Days go by, and then weeks, and you still don’t know why.
It’s not like you haven’t done this before.
These are the moments or minutes that ground you.
What are a few minutes in the course of a day, a week, or a life?
It matters.
You matter, as do the little things you do.
And they do. Or, they did.
Maybe they will again tomorrow?
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.