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.
Frequently designated a dreamer, in perpetuum,
among many other things, he does, he admits,
allow little space to plan.
Rightly or wrongly,
this is the path
he has ended up on. Difficult, perhaps,
at times when cracks in the concrete led him astray.
Only recently discovered, by accident more than fault, is balance
maintained in a world cluttered with discrepancies and dogma
forced upon him by conspiracy theorists, self-serving henchmen,
Jesus freaks and hangers on, black hole believers
and Masters of the Universe
who continue, ad nauseam, to propagate fear.
Erstwhile encounters not forgotten, not
soon enough, minutes bypass memory, he has clung to details
accounted for nostalgically and passionately,
each plank of a moral platform galvanized and scandalized.
He continues, white-knuckled grip, adhering
to a belief system founded over time; tested, altered,
as deemed fit or favorable.
Fully aware and seemingly appreciative, he has crossed the line
from seeing himself merely as a character in this long drown-out drama
to bearing witness
to what happens, as it happens.
He, alone, will not wait to understand, but
carpe diem, record the state of a disingenuous planet.
Each event, as it unfolds, to be accepted as what will.
No longer a second-hand story in third person narrative,
this first-person view could offer confusion at worst,
discomfort at least, through instant, authentic, and liberating in ways
only he will determine. Tenet nosce. Each element of freedom comes at a cost.
He will taste the summer ahead, open mouthed, open-minded,
without concern of those in the past, but
with a belief not to get too far ahead of himself
in the dreams he conjures.
Self and the spirit pacified today with the joy offered,
instead of looking for what
is no longer there. It is easier that way.
© 2018 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.