Make this a month
of substance. Sparkle
with the season. Reflect
back the light of those
who make all our days
a little brighter.
tis’ the season
Mondays are just young Fridays
Information is always available. On the news, in conversation and general commotion, you can’t help but hear it.
Do you listen?
Do you hear what is being said, by others or yourself?
What someone says often differs from what others have heard.
Do you recognize the patterns that infiltrate common thought?
Who will listen?
We all have bits of information and convincing concerns rattling about our heads — you know the ones; the ones that keep coming back — that are varied and confusing. By talking them out we are allowed to remove them from our minds and better address them openly.
An open mind.
It all comes from talking, and through listening, mainly to your self.
Talking things out allows you to gain greater perspective to all the concerns, issues and problems you may be experiencing.
We all have problems . . . I know I do.
Talking them out seems to help.
11/27/2023 j.g.l.
take the time
Forgiveness, thankfulness, mindfulness, gratitude; we don’t take the time as frequently as we should to express what is important to those who are important. We are all human. With all we all have going on, it is too easy to forget where we are, or drift away from where we were. It takes time. It takes effort. It takes honesty. It is hard to find the time. It’s harder to make the time. Now is the time.
© 2018 j.g. lewis
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.
Posted on July 28, 2016 by j.g.lewis
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Mondays are just young Fridays
As with any of this, each or every wakeful
moment, whether horizontal or in an active
stream-of-conscious state, you dare not allow
the doubt to continue further than it has.
Yes, anxiety has threatened to mercilessly
terrorize the duly imagined joy you believed
worthy of, still you managed to quell all
uneasy thoughts.
The years in a vacuum allowed you to tend
to all that was required, though the wall grew
higher, and stronger. What force was able to
seep through the mortar and allow you to feel
hopeful again?
Where has it gone, that which was equal
and true. What happened to all which, once
again, allowed you to breathe fully and feel
passion only heartfelt words could unrest?
A soul can exist in isolation for only so long.
You stumbled slightly, yet took that leap of
faith. Instinct exists for a reason, and you
found more to act on, and less to ignore.
You were not simply fogging the glass.
You lived, if only briefly, that which you
were capable of. Brief need no be, if you can
harvest once more all that is known to be
whole, and true; and waiting.
j.g.l.
