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.
Often in the night
you can’t let go of the day. It is not a problem, or concern,
mainly it is the way you think instead of dream.
You plan, you scheme.
You fit words
into the spaces.
It is not uncommon, each night and often, to stare and search
for comfort in thoughts that should be dreams.
You can’t let go of the day. You simply don’t know
what to say to each circumstance that has, then, become a concern.
Often. Then is no moral or resolution to take hold of,
but you cannot let go.
All that you know, ashamed of emotions, the mendacity of the mind
seeking substance instead of sleep.
It is power when we feel weak.
© 2023 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.