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 . . .

11/05/2024

Mondays are just young Fridays

What happens when you step away 

from the everyday, for a while 

(or longer)?

A new locale, an unfamiliar bed, an 

alternative view overhead 

there is always another way instead;

at least there will be this week.

Even a wristwatch looks different today 

for deadlines have no purpose or place 

this week. 

A well-deserved break, to say the least.

 

11/04/2024                                                                                                                  j.g.l.

cloud songs

What of today, tomorrow

or next week?

   What about the weary,

the impoverished, and the meek?

   What becomes the answer or

the validation that you seek?

11/01/2024                                                                                                  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.

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Worse Than Yesterday

Posted on November 25, 2020 by j.g.lewis Leave a comment

Nothing today wasn’t said yesterday, all that is done,
it will be done again. We repeat similar mistakes day
after day. Our words, or those of someone else, will
haunt us. I am tired of hearing the same things on
a daily basis. Who has died, how many dead, a record
number of cases instead. This disease, the sickness;
the ignorance spreads like a virus.
A deadly pandemic, did you ever imagine? Really?
Eight months in, soon to be nine, we continue hearing
time after time about a soon that does not materialize.
Not much has even changed. Politicians pedal hope
like campaign promises. Even worse than yesterday, or
the day before. Or last week or month. Can we believe
what we are told? Or what we might know?
Few take it seriously. Less even care. Still we mourn
victims from afar. Tears fall like sleet. Too cold to stare,
mine eyes have seen too much grief to give up hope.

© 2020 j.g. lewis

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