Mythos & Marginalia

2015 – 2025: a decade of days

  • Meaningful Today

    Really, what is the future?
       Tomorrow seems close enough, while next month or next year is days and
    months away. Years surpass my time on this planet, as if that makes a
    difference.
       I am such a small speck in the big picture.
       I am what I believe myself to be.
       I am not insignificant.
       I am my own future, or; I am for a time.
       It is what I do today that will determine the future for many days to
    come…or hours,
       ‘As far as we know it, today only happens once’: words on a sign I recently read. These words are as inspiring today as they were at the time, as meaningful today as they were last week, and as purposeful as they may well be in the unknown future.
       I did not realize that the future was as close as it was, but it is.
       It is now…ooops; it has already passed. That is what time does, whether in the present — in the now — or it was yesterday or last week. Time passes.
       Now was, at one time, the future.
       And, then there is today.
       It only happens once.

    © 2021 j.g. lewis

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  • no consideration

    What will you do, what should you do, when nothing
    has been prepared for you as it was supposed to be? No
    organization, little thought, and even less hope. Aren’t
    we all to rely on what is expected of us? Nothing is
    predetermined or planned, no consideration; even less
    than the intrusion. What can we know? What will you
    remember? What can you do when nothing is ready
    for you? Questions always; the answers not inspiring.

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  • acuity

    Everything is not as it seems

    lines align

    horizontally
    v
    e
    r
    t
    i
    c
    a
    l
    l
    y                       a grid is formed

    parallel lines mark our lifetime
    yet the obvious is not apparent

                            focus on the dot
                            centre of screen

    look closely at all
    that you perceive

    we cannot always see straight ahead
    and hindsight seldom serves a purpose

    distortions or distractions
    breaks in the lines            clarity
                                                           acuity

    your central vision is not
    the same on the periphery

         at a distance do you readily
         recognize common forms

    you will not see things like me

    you will not see the same
    through
                            each eye or
                             each other

    open or shut

    are all the lines complete enough

    even in the black and white
    there are many areas of grey
    not all lines remain
    clear and straight

                            lines converge
                            edges distort

    like life
    we rarely see

    the complete picture

    © 2023 j.g. lewis

     

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  • Scars Remain

    Bruised. Beat up.
    Each day we hurt; each day we heal some way:
    physically, spiritually, superficially
    in most cases.
    We exist with pain
    we cannot forget, nor will we get past.

    It moves with us
    through phantom limbs. What is, what it was,
    or what will never be. No matter how
    we squirm, meditate, medicate
    or mask our wounds
    we bleed.

    You cannot wipe
    the taste of an old lover from your lips,
    a parent’s words echo, mistakes sustained.
    Thoughts better left for dead,
    and very much alive.
    Terminal disappointment.

    Remove the dressing,
    scars remain: reminders; where we have been,
    what we have done or
    what has been done
    to us. Excuses solemnly validate
    our existence.

    This art of living
    involves exquisite deception. Calloused knees bent,
    we pick at scabs from prayer
    or surrender. Impressions remain
    pressed into the skin.
    Of course we hurt.

    Who better would know
    the fundamental truth of the human experience?
    Tear off the bandage,
    the wounds will breathe. Proof
    we have done something that can and will
    make us stronger.

    © 2019 j.g. lewis

     

    April is Poetry Month
    it moves with us

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  • not uncommon

    Often in the night
    you can’t let go of the day. It is not a problem, or concern,

    mainly it is the way you think instead of dream.

    You plan, you scheme.

                                               You fit words
                                               into the spaces.

    It is not uncommon, each night and often, to stare and search
    for comfort in thoughts that should be dreams.

    You can’t let go of the day.           You simply don’t know

    what to say to each circumstance that has, then, become a concern.

    Often.    Then is no moral or resolution to take hold of,
    but you cannot let go.

    All that you know, ashamed of emotions, the mendacity of the mind
    seeking substance instead of sleep.

    It is power when we feel weak.

     

    © 2023 j.g. lewis

     

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