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.
Does it feel this way for everyone?
This darkness, this temptation, to look away,
to step away, from a silent fire.
I have been burned.
I am vulnerable.
I am afraid of speaking out.
I hold these heavy thoughts back from others (don’t they have their own concerns).
What do I keep away from myself?
Does it matter?
Couldn’t I simply amuse myself
with lighter thoughts, or gentle distractions – wouldn’t golf become
a more useful game – where the object, intent, and goal is so simple?
Who am I to think my purpose or intention is more important, or
I am simply missing the point?
I am hurting.
Am I ignoring the hurt?
My eyelids are heavy;
is it from seeing too much, or is it from trying
to keep them shut?
© 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.