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 . . .

Mondays are just young Fridays

The clock and the calendar move
forward incrementally, naturally
(as it should be) from a darker
winter we can’t leave behind to
something resembling spring.
In-between our seasons we take
whatever we can, where we are.
We have little choice.
A less-than-enthusiastic forecast
glares at me from a mobile device,
with greater chance of soakers
more than once or twice in the
week ahead as atmospheric rivers
come down to earth (a convenient
excuse for all it’s worth).
April showers still to come, as it
happens, as it is always done, we
keep moving forward step-by-step
mainly in spite of the weather.

03/27/2023                                                                                                             j.g.l.

of interest

your knowledge is
your currency

save up for what
you need or desire

there is interest
in your wisdom

03/26/2023                                                                                        j.g.l.

all my flaws

Who can you blame?
Are the feelings unjust when a decision is a matter of knowing you must find fault or favour with the ill winds of change?
It is never enough to simply rearrange plans or predicaments. It is like making a prediction of all my flaws with my faith as fractured or fragile as it is, or has been.
Far easier to see what I haven’t been doing.

03/24/2023                                                                                                         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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So Little To Show

Posted on January 25, 2017 by j.g.lewis // 1 Comment

Dense fog obliterates the beginning of our day,
surrounded by pavement and landscape with little snow to
track where we have been or what we need to know. Without
a true north to guide our direction, we are pulled further
into this element of fear. Who do, or can, we hold dear.

Winter now that of a librarian’s hush; a hint of caution but
nothing to heed, not as such. Many of us decided not to listen.
Complicit in our actions or intent, the atmosphere has
become veiled in a chorus of disjointed voices, more
about the chosen and less about the choices.

Each of us comes from somewhere else. It is how we have
grown, forever going anywhere new instead of finding
our way home. Making friendly with strangers we never
really got to know, nothing comes from nothing
and we have so little to show.

Lessons learned in how we’ve lost control of our lives, liberty
being not about how we live but how we will die. Temporary
lapse of judgement or time, conscience, or reason. We truly
have no idea what to expect of the day, of ourselves,
or the remainder of the season.
© 2017 j.g. lewis

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