Mythos & Marginalia

life notes; flaws and all

j.g. lewis

original content and images ©j.g. lewis

a daily breath...

A thought du jour, my daily breath includes collected and conceived observations, questions of life, fortune cookie philosophies, reminders, messages of peace and simplicity, unsolicited advice, inspirations, quotes and words that got me thinking. They may get you thinking too . . .

this season

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.

Mondays are just young Fridays

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.

deception

We want to know what
we don’t know, or hadn’t thought of,
or forgot.

What mattered then,
or what mattered when, shifts over time.
We notice.

Perception is what you don’t see.
Deception is what know.
You see it differently through your aloneness.

The truth behind a lie,
you question how and why.
It made sense.

Anticipation keeps us waiting
for only so long. Will it matter
if you felt it never did?

 

© 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.

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less than yesterday

Posted on November 16, 2023 by j.g.lewis Leave a comment

 

This day, unlike others before (except yesterday), showed much 

less promise than possibility. I succumbed to my inner rhythm,  

inconsistent and less palpable than days previous, doing slightly  

more than nothing of consequence. Productivity can be such an 

immeasurable notion, and one I do not feel today (slightly less  

than yesterday). After the fact, I find it far less distressing than  

depressive. I can only concern myself with what will become of  

this restless, repressive malady, neither curious nor causative. I  

fumbled my way through today, and likely will tomorrow. My  

ever-present tension: present tense. The past comes rushing back. 

Deadlines mean so little when you’re not paying attention to time. 

© 2023 j.g. lewis

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