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.
You would not wish to become this involved
in a world that will swallow you whole.
It is the bigger picture.
How should we speak of the atrocities or
comprehend what we witness? Or fear?
Instant exposure to the elements;
the greed, the power or violence.
It is all in the details.
Why do you mask your shame, ask
forgiveness, yet accept no blame?
You won’t speak.
You can’t breathe.
Underserved emotions with ancillary needs.
The capacity is no longer there.
The effort, at best, is trial and error.
Watching an abject failure of humanity.
What will you do with your anger when
sentiment becomes a part of the process?
© 2022 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.