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.
Really, what is the future?
Tomorrow seems close enough, while next month or next year is days and
months away. Years surpass my time on this planet, as if that makes a
difference.
I am such a small speck in the big picture.
I am what I believe myself to be.
I am not insignificant.
I am my own future, or; I am for a time.
It is what I do today that will determine the future for many days to
come…or hours,
‘As far as we know it, today only happens once’: words on a sign I recently read. These words are as inspiring today as they were at the time, as meaningful today as they were last week, and as purposeful as they may well be in the unknown future.
I did not realize that the future was as close as it was, but it is.
It is now…ooops; it has already passed. That is what time does, whether in the present — in the now — or it was yesterday or last week. Time passes.
Now was, at one time, the future.
And, then there is today.
It only happens once.
© 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.