Days, weeks, then months
and years drift by.
Not always noticeable, or even
memorable, the time behind us
simply accumulates. All in all,
the sum of its parts leads to
a life well-lived, if you take
a moment to notice.
09/10/2024 j.g.l.
Mondays are just young Fridays
It’s not about height
or breadth, or depth.
It is all about perspective.
What limits you?
How far can you see?
To what end do you
appreciate what is in front of you?
Looking back is hindsight
and you have already been there.
Change your point of view.
Look up.
Don’t overlook opportunities.
What are your limits?
09/09/2024 j.g.l.
within
Secrets are rarely as heavy as
the weight we assign to them.
The gravity of circumspect
plays out, time and again. It is
what we carry as we decide
what crosses, or is held within,
our moral divide.
Sit with it for a while, moved
only when memory comes into
play; last night, or the other, or
any other day.
09/05/2024 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.
This Eighth Month
Posted on August 29, 2018 by j.g.lewis
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It stops.
Dreams, planted and paid for, dissipate with the season.
The eighth month,
forever a period of turmoil.
Imbalance.
Injustice.
Always.
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
and again.
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.
Always.
August.
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.
September soon.
Calendars need not remind of weeks, or
years gone by. Each month has a purpose.
The sky sits lower.
It waits.
It knows.
@ 2018 j.g. lewis
