Which way are you going?
What route will you follow?
Where will it take you?
03/31/2023 j.g.l.
Mondays are just young Fridays
The clock and the calendar move
forward incrementally, naturally
(as it should be) from a darker
winter we can’t leave behind to
something resembling spring.
In-between our seasons we take
whatever we can, where we are.
We have little choice.
A less-than-enthusiastic forecast
glares at me from a mobile device,
with greater chance of soakers
more than once or twice in the
week ahead as atmospheric rivers
come down to earth (a convenient
excuse for all it’s worth).
April showers still to come, as it
happens, as it is always done, we
keep moving forward step-by-step
mainly in spite of the weather.
03/27/2023 j.g.l.
of interest
your knowledge is
your currency
save up for what
you need or desire
there is interest
in your wisdom
03/26/2023 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.
Awake Enough
Posted on October 8, 2022 by j.g.lewis
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If a star should fall tonight
would you even notice?
Beyond the bandwidth of your rationalizations,
a succession of contradictions and explanations,
would you mind or will it matter
if a star fell to the earth? Would
you even hear the shatter?
Millions of people, like constellations,
dealing with insurmountable issues of trust
and faith, and complex relations,
whosoever can take the time, find the conscious mind
to pay attention to an innocuous occasion
like a falling star,
or the possibilities of such.
How can we take seriously
that which happens in the heavens
while this planet demands so much attention
to serious matters. Somewhere, nearby, a neighbor screams,
the night is not quiet as it once seemed.
If you slept through it all
will the stars even fall?
Who would even notice or wake to the sound?
Does it even matter when you are not around?
Always in darkness, we know not how
to embrace it, or to end it.
Should a star fall from the sky
would you know who might have sent it?
Are you willing to guess, are you willing to receive it?
As we stay, as we do, entangled in temporary lives
filled with perpetual motion,
a star falls, and we seldom heed the sight or
take time to amend our emotions.
All of us stuck in the middle of something,
nearer to the end, always in the darkness.
When the star falls, cutting through the clouds,
diamond-sharp edges tearing at the canvas
of your semi-comfortable existence,
releasing the inevitable. Blood drawn,
spilling out, time and again.
Would you recognize what is hidden,
or understand the mind a falling star can damage?
Your soul or conscience telling you
what you don’t want to hear, thoughts teeming
with contempt and abject fear. Wide-eyed awake
still with no sight, making excuses to yourself
for excusing another life.
The galaxies you once noticed
have turned their backs on you.
One star, any star, any star will do.
If a star falls from the sky,
and it will,
will it come close.
Darkness ever strong,
discomfort goes too long, likewise your shame.
You can’t forgive your silence, or forget your
indiscretions, as you shoulder all the blame.
Destined to repeat past mistakes, time
and again,
when the star falls before you,
will you recognize the pain?
Should a star fall from your life, another
luminary gone, and so too the brightness,
will you slip back into the bottle?
It has comforted you before.
Can you close up all the curtains, again, and hide
behind your door
trying to banish all reminders.
Will you try to validate your presence
with another hand, replacing thoughts
of how it happened
with those you cannot understand.
If a star falls in the night
will you be awake enough to feel it?
Let them fall, slipping hastily through the air,
down, down,
crashing down,
let them see you there.
Perhaps they will stick around, for
now is never
what was planned,
and you know it rarely it is.
If a star falls from the night
is it worthwhile trying to find it?
© 2015 j.g. lewis
