Ever the darkness, every night or
early morn, a moment for chance,
the time to begin.
Still, we wait.
Incessantly.
We do it again and again, enough
or a lot or as much as we can
if we care to admit it.
Why?
Can’t a shade of mystery simply
take hold, whether we like it
or not?
Must we always seek familiarity?
10/21/2024 j.g.l.
The Moon hangs low,
yet the Sun still rises.
Each day
we have another chance
to shine a little brighter.
Rise up.
Be radiant.
© 2019 j.g. lewis
Today might not be what it is
without yesterday being all
that it was.
In a succession of events,
unplanned or programmed,
rarely do we consider
what has happened,
as it happens.
Sometimes we speak less
about things that matter
as we think we have
more time, as such.
Oftentimes
we do not speak of
things we should
as they are happening,
in the time that remains.
In the time we are given,
the present persists.
10/15/2024 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.
I slept in this morning.
I didn’t hear the internal alarm clock that, almost without fail, awakens me each morn and I must have blissfully enjoyed my time between the sheets without guilt. I woke refreshed without the residue of difficult dreams or urgent concerns that often drive me to the keyboard to tap out some sort of thought, message, or moral.
It seems a refreshed mind is often blank or clear of unsettling thought. At least, it is this morning.
I’m pretty sure I did not stir in the night. I’m pretty sure the air-conditioned comfort of the bedroom was appreciated; especially after a day of wandering about my city in the intense heat and humidity we have been experiencing lately.
I’m pretty sure the last thing I recall before drifting off into the soul satisfying, coma-like slumber was the harsh and heavy Old Testament rain that seems to have removed the humidity from our atmosphere (at least for a time).
The sun is out.
So far, it seems like a good day.
That’s the thought the well rested me will now take further into the day.
07/25/2022 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.