Secrets are rarely as heavy as
the weight we assign to them.
The gravity of circumspect
plays out, time and again. It is
what we carry as we decide
what crosses, or is held within,
our moral divide.
Sit with it for a while, moved
only when memory comes into
play; last night, or the other, or
any other day.
09/05/2024 j.g.l.
When you are not ready to say
all you need to say, you remain
unable to feel all you are
meant to feel.
Joy, relief, compassion,
beliefs, unobtainable all in the
truest sense. Your solitude, like
a sin, stays locked inside.
Unbidden, personal inquisition
only you can reply to, abiding
precious time.
09/03/2024 j.g.l.
Treat others
as you would
treat yourself.
Share when you can.
Kindness has no season,
but is best served
with appreciation.
Gratitude does not
need a reason, but
the taste will last
a very long time.
Be thankful.
09/02/2024 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.
There is nothing definite about autumn.
Fall is fickle, if not downright unpredictable, right down to when it begins.
We have ‘Meteorological” autumn: defined by splitting the year into nice simple quarters with September 1st chronologically marking the day.
Then we have “Astronomical” autumn beginning on September 22nd and marked by the autumnal equinox.
But last week, I observed “Spiritual” autumn, not as much defined by a date as a feeling.
It was unexpected actually. It was Thursday. The weather had been downright balmy as of late and the trees remain lush and leafy. The gorgeous colours so familiar to autumn have hardly arrived, so the morning chill took me by surprise, and I without a sweater.
Indeed, it felt like autumn.
Autumn comes with the end of summer and is elated closely to going back to school.
How many years of my life have been marked by September? Certainly those of my youth, when summer seemed to last a helluva lot longer than it does these days.
Enjoy your autumn; stretch it out as long as you can because winter, most certainly, will be much more definite.
09/19/2022 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.