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.
Tearing the cellophane off a fresh new month, I realize 2024 is now half over and there are so many questions.
Where did the time go?
What haven’t I done?
What was I thinking?
When the year began not that long ago (six months to be exact) I had many plans. I had things to do (or things to be done), yet many of those tasks, projects, or obligations remain in a restless state.
It surprises me.
I thought I would have accomplished more by now than I actually have.
I am reminded, over and over, how much is still incomplete.
As I try to do things, again and again, I know I need to think more about what remains.
Summer, really, has just begun; yet that is but half of the seasons. For now, I will concentrate on the only one that really matters, right now at least.
We have longer days before us for another good month (at least). That itself seems like a reason to finish what I started and begin more things on my to-do list.
I would like the think now of the six months ahead, instead of the half dozen already behind me. Somehow it seems like it allows for more time that I can make mine.
07/01/2024 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.