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.
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.
When you are not ready to say
all you need to say, you remain
unable to feel all you are
meant to feel.
Joy, relief, compassion,
beliefs, unobtainable all in the
truest sense. Your solitude, like
a sin, stays locked inside.
Unbidden, personal inquisition
only you can reply to, abiding
precious time.
09/03/2024 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.
Discipline required, intent
or epoch mired by politics and
petty grievance. Days move
swiftly or slowly. I try
to keep up or stay ahead of a
variety of calamities.
Patience is not simply waiting,
but knowing when the time is
right. What should be done
today could easily wait until
Wednesday, or June,
when the weather then
may be more fitting than a day
when nothing seems right.
I wonder. If all I am doing
is standing still, am I being
patient or lazy?
How much time is unwillingly
wasted on baited breath as we
all work our way towards
certain death? It is only a
matter of time. How often are
you reminded?
Are you rushing ahead,
or waiting patiently?
04/19/2021 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.