We live in a world of what ifs.
What if we did something else,
or what if we weren’t there (as
sometimes we shouldn’t be
when it comes down to the
wrong place at the right time).
What if it never happened?
What if we had responded
differently or if we had taken
the advice we were told?
Would we have been so bold?
05/30/2023 j.g.l.
Is what you do enough?
For who?
For you?
Self-doubt?
Self-love?
Self-centered?
Is it selfish to think mainly
of what I need to do for me,
myself, and I?
Why?
When will I find resolve to
my never-ending queries?
Will it be enough?
Do you still doubt?
Do you struggle with answers,
as much as the questions?
Can you decide?
Are you trying?
Is that enough?
05/23/2023 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.
It’s interesting, or odd, how you do something with dedicated regularity, and then suddenly stop.
Not just for a day or three, it goes on for months.
And you’re not sure why.
Yes, you think about it, but you don’t analyze it with any sort of concern. Like it will all come back to you.
And surely you will, but why did you stop?
We are all creatures of habit.
Often, what we do becomes a noticeable part of who we are.
But who notices when something changes.
Maybe something has altered your daily routine and you can’t find the mental space or strength to figure it out.
It’s not like you, yet day after day after day you don’t do what you used to do daily.
Your routine has been disturbed, as if new priorities have pushed away the reason you got so involved.
Days go by, and then weeks, and you still don’t know why.
It’s not like you haven’t done this before.
These are the moments or minutes that ground you.
What are a few minutes in the course of a day, a week, or a life?
It matters.
You matter, as do the little things you do.
And they do. Or, they did.
Maybe they will again tomorrow?
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.
