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 . . .

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.

Mondays are just young Fridays

We tire of unpredictable weather, the damp morning chill, wet socks and lost mittens. Winter keeps reminding it is not through with us.
   We have suffered long enough.
   The streets are tired and dirty and the time change only makes things darker in the morning.
   We need a brighter view.
   We need, now, the renewal that comes with spring.

03/20/2023                                                                                          j.g.l.


Progress comes less from planning than participation.
Dreams and wishes require action and attention.
Start moving.

03/19/2023                                                                                                         j.g.l.

I'm like a pencil;
sometimes sharp,
most days
other times
dull or
Still I write.

j.g. lewis
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.

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Look Away

Posted on October 23, 2021 by j.g.lewis Leave a comment

Gather, you beggars. Assemble 

like pigeons, seeking morsels of kindness 

on these filthy city streets. We notice but do not acknowledge.  

Or apologize. 


I cannot deal with all I see. 


Any spare change? No answer. No chance.  

I saunter by in my warm parka, well-rested, belly full 

of breakfast. I know no hunger, though not immune  

to the pang. Sunglasses shield my eyes.  

I have witnessed too much. 


There, but by the grace of God, go I. 


They remain. Unrecognizable 

even to those who have loved them. A person’s sister, somebody’s  

brother, somebody’s child. A somebody; 

another vacant bed or private hell 

another excuse or story to tell. 


We do not want to hear. 


Nor dare to breathe. Ask no questions. 

I am only what I ask myself to be. If 

charity begins at home, what then of the homeless? Nothing. 

I know where I will sleep tonight. 


Ashamed. I do little but look away. 


Filthy pigeons stare back.  

Then scatter. 


©2021 j.g. lewis


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