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 forward

The Tulips at St. James Park have run their course, the bulbs dug up and stored away until planting this fall.
    Right now it is just dirt, but I can feel potential.
    In the coming days, gardeners will fill the plant beds with a fresh crop of flowers to see us through the summer. I am anticipating beautiful things.
    Over the past couple of years, St. James Park has become a regular part of my landscape. It began during the COVID lockdown when I found myself passing through the park on my daily walks around downtown Toronto. It was more than a habit.
    The park became an oasis in my day; comfort within the concrete of the city. The shade of the magnificent trees always gave me a reason to stop.
    Sometimes I would sketch the flowers and trees, write a poem when the muse called out, or simply spend time with my journal or my camera.
    Some days I would just sit, as I did yesterday and the day before. Some days you only have to listen or look around.
    Yesterday, I noticed the water has been turned on in the bird bath after a two-year absence. It’s not quite a fountain but I know I’ll find myself, at some point, wasting time with my camera and capturing birds as they refresh themselves in the heat of the day.
    I look forward to it; time well-wasted is good for the soul. It’s always nice to have a place where there is the potential to do just that.

06/02/2023                                                                                                                   j.g.l.


We live in a world of what ifs.
What if we did something else,
or what if we weren’t there (as
sometimes we shouldn’t be
when it comes down to the
wrong place at the right time).
What if it never happened?
What if we had responded
differently or if we had taken
the advice we were told?
Would we have been so bold?

05/30/2023                                                                                        j.g.l.


As it is, not
as we wish it to be.

You have days
to think back on,

and you do…

05/25/2023                                                                                           j.g.l.

I'm like a pencil;
sometimes sharp,
most days
other times
dull or
Still I write.

j.g. lewis
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.

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Not Even There

Posted on July 15, 2015 by j.g.lewis Leave a comment



I could say I’ve been sorry, or least of all try.
I could think of more reasons, I can’t think of more whys.
City streets nearly barren, the clock nearly two,
there’s nothing worth doing, or there’s nothing to do.
So come see the night, how I think it should be.
Open your eyes. Admission is free.

Let’s walk under the moonlight like it’s not even there.
Remembering moments, remembering where.
We could question our virtues, or shout out at fate,
laugh at the boundaries we haphazardly create.
Still, there’s no point showing the scars we once knew,
this is the night to think it all through.

In daylight I’m restless, it’s become a disease.
Yet I won’t beg for mercy, I can’t even say please.
I won’t become another victim, who walks in their sleep,
I won’t pick or choose battles as I look for relief.
All that’s familiar is the uncertain dance,
deciding on whether it’s choice, or it’s chance.

We can go on pretending we are getting on with life,
with its make-believe anger and fictional strife.
Still we know how we are, and we know what is ours.
Let’s get back to believing, and get lost in the stars.
Little comes from resistance. Little comes over time,
little comes from knowing what is no longer mine.

Time passes like traffic, oftentimes too slow,
keeps changing directions, unsure where it goes.
It takes longer to get there than you once realized,
as you hold back the wonder, or hold in the surprise.
Months turn to years, and you get stuck in a lane,
mistakes keep returning again, and again.

Storm clouds are rolling, gathering up the rain,
to rinse off the silence and wash out the pain.
Let’s walk through the night like it’s not even there,
and make up a version of our own truth or dare.
Forget the umbrella, we’ll get soaked to the skin.
If we don’t have the answers, will we find them within?

We can pick off the problems, like lint on a sleeve,
take a pulse of our feelings, and control of our needs.
We could walk like it’s nothing. We could walk like we’re real.
We could walk like you walk, walking away from a deal.
Still the money’s on the table, I’ve got nowhere to go
and nowhere I want to, nowhere but home.

© 2015 j.g. lewis

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