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.
We wander when we can.
Movement has a purpose, even that which seems inconsequential or impractical. We are moving forward.
Often we are rushed, so focused on a destination that we pay little attention to exactly where we are.
Even so, each step is purposeful.
If, for no other reason than a sign we have been there, we leave a mark.
Footprints.
Step by step.
Real time.
This is happening.
We can’t always see the horizon as our thoughts are occasionally confined to our present dimension; it defines where we are, whether we know it or not.
If we are unsure of where we are going, how will we know when we have arrived?
Look around.
Pay attention to the landscape, don’t simply become a part of it.
08/04/2023 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.