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.
Month: March 2024
view obstructed by silence
mind stimulated with a promise of progress
patience knows the pain of uncommon effort
not quite meeting expectations
occasionally pieces fit
more often by luck not skill
a pattern is not distinct
misinterpretation defies logic
any valid solution thwarted by
an inability to see the complete picture
© 2024 j.g. lewis
Posted on March 12, 2024 by j.g.lewisLeave a comment
Who are you?
Where are you?
What are you?
Only you can truly
know your relationship
to this earth and those
people occupying your
time.
How can you know?
Only you can provide
the answers.
Only you can know
who, or what, you have
been or where you need
to go, and why.
Why?
03/12/2024 j.g.l.
Posted on March 11, 2024 by j.g.lewisLeave a comment
A purposefully lost hour will eventually go unnoticed, blending into the procedural moments and transactional habits of the hours ahead.
Daylight will extend further each day, but will we take full advantage of the illumination when we still fear so much of the darkness that has surrounded us for months on end.
We only have to open our eyes to see what we are allowed. It will unfold right in front of you.
Open your mind.
We must.
Ahead of us, past the seasonal stint of numbing cold that greeted me this morning, there will be vibrant colours from tulips now resting in the dirt. Buds will form on all those trees and there is so much foliage to come.
We only have to remember last year, or the years before.
Spring is almost here, and then summer in it’s time. Longer days, enhanced sunlight and greater opportunities are waiting in lay.
How will you take advantage of all that is ahead?
Can you see past the darkness?
03/11/2024 j.g.l.
