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.
Treat others
as you would
treat yourself.
Share when you can.
Kindness has no season,
but is best served
with appreciation.
Gratitude does not
need a reason, but
the taste will last
a very long time.
Be thankful.
09/02/2024 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.
Warning signs, dashboard indicators, red flags,
continual reminders of what is ahead, or
what follows at breakneck speed. Too fast;
too busy, too confused, we yield not to the signals,
but push ahead, our direction, our intention,
our destination more important
than anyone else. Even suspended in traffic,
all four lanes, our refusal to allow others in
is more than stubbornness. Sharing neither
caution or common courtesy, we will not alter
or acknowledge our route.
To do so is to admit less power, or that we may
have lost our way. Distance and time
the only measure of where we are going, or
how we will get there. We navigate the commute
between the reality we live with, and that
which is expected, our individual emissions
contributing to the noxious fumes we ingest. Daily.
Driving forward, but not ahead, running on empty,
through a cracked windshield we see, or believe,
nothing will harm us. Road rage, we curse
under our breath. or shout foul-mouthed insults
at those behaving as we are, refusing right-of-way.
To anybody. Self-motivated or selfish,
it makes little difference at any speed. We fail
to notice a world that passes us by. Look,
perhaps a shoulder check. It may take a glance
in the review mirror to remind us life is precious.
Slow down. Pay attention. Let others in.
©2016 j.g. lewis
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.