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 . . .

Look

When it’s not right, we see
only what is wrong instead
of trying to make it better.

Look past the faults.
See possibilities.

Keep moving forward.

08/17/2022                                                                              j.g.l.

Mondays are just young Fridays

So, I make mistakes.
   An oversight or three, here and there, or an error or lack of judgment can (and will) happen. My lack of foresight simply happens.
   We do not learn from our mistakes, but rather we learn from the experience.
   You cannot prepare yourself for all probabilities knowing a mistake is a likely possibility.
   Pay attention.
   Experience comes from noticing what you are paying attention to.

08/15/2022                                                                                     j.g.l.

 

That Moon

 

Maybe this Moon

with the power it bleeds

      will illuminate more

      unnecessary violence

     and greed.

       Maybe this Moon

         has memories

    it simply cannot forget.

       Some of us will relate

    while others regret.

  Maybe that Moon knows

        what it is all worth

   and sets an example

       for those looking up

         from this earth.

07/27/2018                                                                            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.

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A Stinging Silence

Posted on April 19, 2020 by j.g.lewis Leave a comment

The radio no longer crackles
as it used to do
with
the lightening,
as
it happens.
Through the darkness
a voice calls out, Pagliaro singing to the broken and the lame.
Rain, rain,
rain showers.

The radio crackled in the night
sharp-edged static
then a stinging silence
before the thunder,
not but a few heartbeats.
The sky
opens up.
Thunder and lightening, touches the earth, as you feel shame.
Rain, rain,
rain showers.

The radio plays to the lonely
as it always has.
The moon
cowers behind vengeful clouds.
She, partially broken, is vulnerable
like you.
Still not there.
Unable to protect, as you thought she could, from all the pain.
Rain, rain,
rain showers.

The radio no longer crackles
across the airwaves.
Emotions, still fragile,
Shatter
in the rain.
No one is to blame.
Strengthen my faith.
Let me live again. No longer broken, no longer tame. Not again.
Rain, rain,
rain showers.


© 2015 j.g. lewis

They don’t make radios, or write songs, like they did in 1971. Michel Pagliaro still rocks

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