It is hard to know
what to say, or
how to say it,
so often we
Silence stops the
but it does not
stop the thoughts.
original content and images ©j.g. lewis
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 . . .
A sign I’ve been glancing at, daily, since I noticed it a week back at a regular coffee stop where I try to begin my day with a dark roast cup of bravery.
I try to take the time, every morning, to scribble out my current considerations, deliberations, and contemplations on images and memories that have come to me in my dreams and in reality.
If your first meal of the day is the most important, shouldn’t your first thoughts be as well?
Take time to write them down. It’s important. What you are thinking affects how you continue to navigate your self through the coming hours or weeks.
“The bravest thing you can be is yourself.”
How much courage is required to make it through the remainder of the day? Is a single cup of coffee enough to provide the fortitude required to step further into the day?
It’s a good start.
I'm like a pencil;
Still I write.
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.
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Dreams, planted and paid for, dissipate with the season.
The eighth month,
forever a period of turmoil.
The heartbreak of August.
Always endings, always there.
Goodbyes believable, stories told from sixteen onward,
a laundry list of sorrows, added items along the way
from a boy to a man, to whomever I struggle with now
I don’t know.
I live with it. This eighth month. August. I have naturally learned
to accept. My prescient nature, not always accurate, but available,
should I choose to pay attention to the whispers or my conscience.
Often choices are made for me, although
I continue believing you are where you are
because you ended up here.
Can you know?
This is not the season to hide, this eight month forebodes.
As quickly as it comes.
As quickly as it goes.
Unhappiness fades away, with flowers, with memories,
with that freedom that comes from shorter midnights.
Soon to change.
Calendars need not remind of weeks, or
years gone by. Each month has a purpose.
The sky sits lower.
@ 2018 j.g. lewis